Morning Star
by beautifulxxflame
Summary: He's Valentine, the golden boy who the whole school's in awe of. She's Melissa, the cynical dancer with a comment for everything. And they plan on making their last Academy year the best-though they may have to face the real world sooner than they think.
1. Prologue

**Now that we're finished with the prequel... let's move along to the real thing. If you're just clicking on this for the first time, and haven't read my other Mortal Instruments fic, _Merely a Luxury, _I strongly suggest you read that first. This will be an epic, so all I can say about the length at the moment is that it is going to be _long- _and span from the Circle era to the end of _City of Glass._ Yes, you read right. This is also OC and slightly AU, so don't like, don't read. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>I do not own the Mortal Instrument's characters and plot, the brilliant Cassandra Clare does. I own only my own characters, settings and the story's plotline. Any similaries to any other fanfictions is merely a coinciedence.<strong>

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><p><em>Barcelona, Spain: June 1984<em>

"You may feel an urgent desire to duck in the next ten seconds!"

A currently-disembodied voice echoed throughout the cathedral. She could almost track its path – it collided first with that pew, then ricocheted off that pillar, and finally hit the grand vaulted ceiling before smashing into her hypersensitive words' meaning then gripped her, and she ducked as the demon's stinger sliced the air inches above her.

She rolled sideways, momentum from the fall bringing her to rest with feet braced against the cathedral's eastern wall. It was all the time she required to whip the second seraph blade out of its waistband sheath and name it _Camael _before shoving it quickly up the sleeve of her metal-plated top. Her first blade lay somewhere around the base of the gilded alter.

It was coming towards her, wariness evident in the steps of its countless legs, finally recognizing her as a force to be reckoned with. She shook her dark curls back behind her shoulders, watching herself in the stained-glass window scene of St. Matthew on the adjacent wall. A young woman, roughly five ten, clad in black armor from her shoulders to the soles of her calve-high combat boots. Waiting calmly for an enormous Ravener demon to come within a foot of her. A scene that, up until four short months ago, would have only taken place in her wildest dreams.

"And what has Mr. Cartwright been most kind to teach us about these little guys?" asked the identically garbed Nephilim girl who had appeared to her right. Moonlight lit turned her golden hair silver and illuminated the fiery grin she wore.

"Now is _not _the time for a lesson, Ari," she said above the demon's slithering hiss. She answered without taking her eyes off its glistening back. "Ravener demon. Deadly poison, so a repeat of the last few minutes isn't the best idea. Can talk a little, so this one must be pretty young. Forgive me if I'm a little distracted at the moment."

Aribelle inched backwards out of the patch of moonlight, forming clicking noises with her tongue, drawing the demon into her previous place. It followed her willingly; tail sliding along the stone floor in a grotesque parody of a snake. She held up three fingers. Two. One.

Melissa's feet sprang into action. The moonlit cathedral was her stage and she was across it in less than three seconds, whipping the blade out of her sleeve and bringing it down in a swooping arc, a technique she had practiced enough times against a block of wood to master. Two legs parted from the demon's body with a sickening squelch as she danced backwards, a growing pool of grossly bright ichor filling her place. It hissed a breath of pain as she feinted to the left and drove her blade right – where her mind's diagram showed its heart – just as her weapon's tip met rock-hard plating and ricocheted off with a sharp _ping_.

"You forgot something," Aribelle laughed as Melissa was forced to parry the demon's infuriated counter-attack with lightning speed, "Their incredibly tough outer back shell."

"Hilarious, Westin," Melissa panted, watching as the demon entered its lethal tail into the game, swinging it at Aribelle's black-clad leg before she had time to reply. It advanced, backing the pair of Nephilim against the front pew while Melissa battled its many legs and Aribelle worked at dodging its dripping stinger.

"Sorry, I thought you knew," her blonde friend breathed and sliced off half of its stinger with a grunt, gasping when ichor sprayed her uncovered face. Melissa could only spare her an anxious glance before she was forced to jump backwards onto the wooden pew to avoid the blows of its front legs.

Aribelle's blade flashed silver as it took another leg off; yet two more were there to take its place. While Melissa had taken over the duel against its stinger, her battle partner had reached over the side of the pew and chucked a Bible and a curse at the demon.

"Isn't that _a tad _sacrilegious?" Melissa panted as countless pages patterned with _espa__ñ__ol_ littered the air like fluttering leaves. The look Aribelle shot her a second later informed her that she wasn't near as funny as she thought she was, and the painfully inflamed sores that dotted her friend's cheeks made her itch to end this battle as fast as they had started it.

Feeling the burn of the runes on her shoulder with a detached pride and pleasure as they seared their power into her skin, Melissa landed a blow to one of the demon's front legs, ichor leaking out as she half-severed the crucial natural weapon. It hissed as she leaned out over the creature, barely keeping her balance as she parried the demon's increasing attacks while its stinger thrashed threateningly overhead.

An idea came to her, uncalled for and extremely unsafe, but as appealing as brightly coloured poison in a crystal champagne flute. Melissa dug through her thoughts for its source as hit after hit jarred her tiring right arm. The flash of a textbook's pages came first, then an image of a white-blond teenager in a candlelit room, a look of startling intensity molding the panes of his angler face as he weaved a story for the admiring faces surrounding him. She grinned as she tensed her calves and signaled for Aribelle to be ready to cover her. _Most definitely the latter one. _

The impact of her boots meeting the scales of demon's flat back shot sharp tingles through her legs but Melissa took it in newly-acquired stride. She crouched, pressing herself as close to its natural armor as possible, feeling the demon's hiss travel through its body as it realized the source of its extra weight. The tail raced to meet her a second later. Melissa could only acknowledge Aribelle's yell of warning with a grin as she flung herself sideways, almost rolling off as its deadly stinger crunched a hole in its own back, where she had lay seconds earlier. Her own adrenaline rush coincided perfectly with the demon's screech of agony. As she rolled to the other side just before the tell-tale whistle of stinger splitting through air reached her ears, Melissa reveled in how exquisitely _alive _she felt.

Yet, she didn't roll fast enough to evade the tail's middle section that whipped around to catch her knee.

Melissa flew through the air like a cork released from a bottle, striking a window with a smash before hitting the ground with an impact that rattled every bone in her body. A shattered rainbow of stained glass hailed down upon her as she lay on her back, struggling painfully to draw breath. She could see the demon approaching with shockingly clear eyes, Aribelle dancing around it and managing to open a deep wound on its snout as both creatures from Heaven and Hell drew nearer to her spread-eagled body. Melissa willed strength into muscles built up from four months of solid training, pulling herself first onto her elbows, then her chest, then finally onto her knees as she looked the demon in the eyes with a mere yard between them, fear just beginning to take her heart in its agonizing grip –

"Stab its stomach! _Its stomach, now!" _ Aribelle was screaming; in a full-out sprint, but not quite fast enough.

Taking her blade in a fist full of razor-sharp glass, Melissa's yell tore the air as she buried her weapon elbow-deep in demon flesh and ichor.

Aribelle knelt down in the pool of glass just as Melissa watched the life permanently leave the demon's acid-yellow eyes.

"Do you think we should leave some damage insurance?" Melissa cracked, gesturing towards the sabotaged window. The wave of her hand scattered fat crimson droplets across the cobblestone floor.

Aribelle looked at her in general concern as she extracted her other hand from the demon's belly, the skin of her palm and fingers clothed in minor ichor burns not unlike those that dotted her friend's cheeks like freckles. The demon's body was already disintegrating; its spirit thrown back to the inferno where it had come from.

"I don't think two girls fighting demons is the first conclusion the priest's mind will leap to," Aribelle replied lent her arm to help Melissa to her feet. "Plus they've sworn to help our cause a long time ago, explaining the seraph blades we so conveniently found underneath the altar." She made a sympathetic noise as Melissa bared her palms at her friend's insistence: both were sliced and leaking blood, and had shards of glass protruding in at least two places.

Aribelle continued while she searched her belt for her stele. "But by the Angel, we're lucky! Imagine if we hadn't bought those mundane pills for you this afternoon!"

"I would've had a raging headache by now?"

Aribelle glanced up from the rune she was tracing on Melissa's hand, brown eyes leaking exasperation. "No, you won't have been able to kill that demon and we both would've been dead. I'm not sure how these young ones are getting so strong."

A sigh of relief escaped Melissa's lips as the last _iratze _was drawn and the shallower cuts already transformed to maroon scabs before her eyes. "Maybe they're eating more vegetables."

Her best friend and battle partner laughed, but then looked at her with eyes wide with concern. "But seriously, you're okay?" She tucked her stele back into her belt and steered Melissa towards the extravagantly gilded doors of the cathedral's grand entrance. "It feels like I'm asking you this every second week."

"Only because that's the general interval of time before I do something stupid. Admit it, that's what you were going to say in the first place," Melissa cracked as they walked into the night air's embrace: cool after a hot Barcelona summer day.

Aribelle grinned as she jumped the steps in intervals too unimaginably large for a human being. "Maybe." She beckoned Melissa to follow.

"So how're we getting out of here?" Melissa inquired, scanning the street before them and only coming up with a few black-and-yellow taxis, a silver truck and a sleek, obnoxiously red sports car. She assumed the rune that had been scrawled on her left forearm this afternoon made sure no driver could see them.

Another laugh floated out of Aribelle's mouth as she gestured to an object on Melissa's far right; when she turned, she met the image of the sports car with a confused look.

"You might want to take a look at its driver," Aribelle said as an answer to her skeptical look. She led the way across the sidewalk, but paused before they were in view of the driver's side window. "Hey. We were great tonight, weren't we, _parabatai?"_

Melissa felt a smile spring to her face with a mind of its own. Raising her hand and balling it into a fist, she bumped it against Aribelle's waiting one. _"Parabatai."_

She circled around the car's flashy exterior, almost afraid to touch it, before swinging herself into the empty passenger seat. The sum of Melissa's car experiences could be counted on one hand, so she was too preoccupied with her surroundings and the slight mistrust of mundane technology to notice the person beside her until they spoke.

"Somehow, I suspected Aribelle would come back with hardly a scratch, and you would return from the very same battle with _iratzes _covering half your body."

She swung her gaze past the car's sleek interior to the boy sitting in it. Moonlight streaming from the passenger window hit his hair like it would a prism, turning the white-blond strands into shards of glass as sharp as the cutting smirk he wore.

"Oh, _well. _I'm terribly sorry for actually ridding the world of another demon while you go around stealing people's sports cars."

He patted the dashboard protectively while revving the engine with unnecessary noise. "Don't hate on the Maserati Biturbo – and for the record, I'm doing an excellent job as its temporary owner. The real one won't even know it's missing," he assured as they sped down one of the city's main drags, still lit up in a lively kaleidoscope of colour at eleven o'clock at night. Melissa could hear Aribelle holding a murmured conversation with Lucian in the backseat.

"I'm also using it for a great purpose," he continued. "To pick up my girlfriend and make sure she gets home safe and sound."

Melissa leaned in closer, prompting him to do the same in anticipation. Their lips brushed in the lightest of electric touches before she drew back and smacked him playfully on the cheek. "Your girlfriend says to get your eyes back on the road!"

The word still felt foreign in her head and on her tongue after nearly a month of saying it.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, dark irises clouded with taunting, playful anticipation. "Do you know what day it is?"

They were out of the city now, and the dark countryside that sped by them was reflected in Melissa's green eyes. He was doing at least twice the speed limit – a fact her white knuckles clutching the passenger door handle had noted a while ago.

"Yes, I broke into a church and smashed ones of its windows on a Sunday. I'm a horrible person, I know. Sue me."

A short chuckle escaped his lips. "You're not fooling me, I found out already. And you're a horrible person for not telling any of us, me especially. Happy birthday!"

The choruses of well-wishes from the backseat made Melissa want to smack and hug her friends in equal measures. "Really? In front of everyone? That's low. You didn't allow me the one gift I actually wanted: to let this day pass in perfect incognito." She purposely ignored Aribelle's inquiry of _"How old are you?"_ and turned to him with suspicious eyes. "How exactly did you find out?"

He grinned. "Academy security is particularly lax on the last day of classes."

"That's creepy."

"_Gracias." _

Aribelle's head popped into the space between the seats. "You're going to give her your present, right?"

"Guys, no –" she was silenced by a swat and chose not to go into an explanation of the wrongs of hitting girls.

"Actually, everyone pitched in a bit," he continued, eyes following the highway, "So keep that in mind when you're causing all sorts of delightful trouble around the tenth year Academy dormitory come September."

When Melissa gave him a befuddled look, he laughed. "You're an on-campus student of the Academy next year!"

Her mouth opened in a show of astonished outrage. "No. You did not. Exactly _how _much money do I owe the collective Circle bank account, not to mention the amounts that I know Mr. M here forked out on the side?"

The touch of a cool hand on the delicate skin on her wrist stopped her for a moment. His fingers travelled upwards, tracing the few scars of old Marks that littered her forearms in a soothing, intimate gesture that temporarily calmed her.

"Still, not cool. And what if I end up with a psychotic killer of a roommate?" she continued when their hands were firmly clasped together under the console.

Her future _parabatai's _laugh filled the car. "That would be me."

"Okay, a collective "I hate you" goes out to this car's occupants. Oops, I meant thank you. I think." Although it was often difficult, they saw through her harsh tone and the denotation of her words to the genuine appreciativeness underneath. And her happiness was made clearer when she leaned sideways and lightly kissed her boyfriend's cheek. _"Gracias, se__ñ__or._ And you just stretched my knowledge of _Españ__o__l_ to its limit."

Valentine took his eyes off the road to smile at her with eyes full of affection. "I know you are." Despite her sarcasm, he could see the appreciation in her eyes.

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><p><strong>My three favourite things are cupcakes, Valentine Morgenstern and reviews. Please give me at least one of those today. :)<strong>


	2. Secrets, Part I

**Happy to see that my readers have transferred over to this story with no difficulty. And I was a horrible person and forgot to put the BIGGEST thanks out to my beta, Elless, who has stayed with me from the middle of MaL. Go give her some love, right now.**

**Be prepared for a little bit of fluff - but I guess it's about time. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Secrets, Part I<strong>

_Idris countryside: September 1984_

His heart rate quickened, beating faster than any previous battle as he followed the way the warm mid-morning light caught the edge of his mother's glass and her diamond wedding ring but somehow fell short of awakening anything in her eyes. They were like a pair of bleached shells, so light they looked washed-out. His mother didn't usually call him; in fact, they could go days without seeing each other. The last time she had sent directly for him like this, his father had been pronounced dead.

"Valentine," Bellasae said, quietly but firmly, as if testing to see if it really was her son's name. "You may want to sit down. There's some wine in the decanter, if you please."

He waved his mother's offerings away, stepping forward to stand in the square of sunlight cast by the panoramic bay window. "I'm fine standing." His eyes searched the emerald landscape in front of him but found no trace of the person he was looking for.

"You're sure she won't overhear us?"

His head turned before he realized it. "No. When Melissa goes riding, she won't return for hours on end. But really, she's been here two weeks and she could count your appearances on one hand. Where's the courtesy you were always pushing me for as a child?"

Bellasae fixed him in a piercing gaze – one that she used so rarely he had almost forgotten what it looked like. "Courtesy got your father nowhere when a pack of Downworlder wolves tore him limb from limb."

It seemed as if the ring around her fourth finger sparkled brighter as she spoke.

"If this is about my father, I _am _leaving," Valentine hissed, pacing around an armchair and feeling his fingers grip the back tighter than he preferred. The light left his mother's eyes instantaneously, leaving him almost yearning for Bellasae Morgenstern's fierce gaze rather than the bland stare of this imposter.

"No. Melissa is so like her mother – I can see it every time she looks at me. What has she said to you of her parents?"

_Or what have I involuntarily assumed, _he thought, mind rewinding to an unseasonably warm March night in a cave blacker than darkness. "Not much. She walked out on them three years ago. They kept her from the Academy and Nephilim life, the Angel knows why. You mentioned that your _parabatai _was her mother, Vivienne."

She took a long sip of her drink, wisps of hair from her elaborate topknot falling to surround her face in an almost white frame. "But she did not tell you why they were living miles away from civilization in the first place."

Eyes narrowed, Valentine slipped on an otherwise neutral façade while his mind raced inside. "No, she didn't."

"I assume you've learned about the Revolution of 1958?"

"Of course. We covered it in fifth year."

Bellasae gazed at him with unfathomable eyes. "But you do not remember who the cause of it was?"

"No," Valentine replied, shaking his head infinitesimally, "That was five years ago, I –" but then his eyes widened and he remembered.

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><p>Valentine, who had glanced out a hallway window and spotted her minutes before, cleared the back patio steps in a jump and jogged out to meet the girl who has been living with him for the past two weeks. He directed his gaze to the edge of the meadow, where tall grass gave way to towering evergreens. A black mare's head and mane had just appeared amongst the undergrowth.<p>

The girl riding the horse wore dark leggings and a jean jacket and looked half-comfortable on its back. Valentine could see her smile from where he stood as she caught sight of him and reined her mount in, changing course from the stables to his place in the field. Tall, browning grass danced around the horse's hooves as she cantered towards him – an almost picturesque scene.

But then she started cursing a blue streak as her mount galloped past him and Valentine knew it was Melissa.

He sprinted after them, outpacing the horse in a matter of seconds and managing to grab hold of its reins and calm it enough to stretch a hand out to Melissa. She eyed it for a moment and chose to fall off the other side instead, dark braids bouncing as she landed in a heap in the grass.

"I'll never fathom how you manage to keep her under control for hours only to fall off within two minutes of seeing me," he mused, squatting down beside her with reins now attached to a completely tame horse grasped in his left hand.

Melissa blew out her bangs and glared. "I bring out her rebellious side. Plus –" she yanked up her jacket sleeve, revealing three inky black runes twining up the inside of her forearm, "I think ahead."

She scrambled to her feet and Valentine followed suit, taking her arm in a light grip. He shot her a teasing look from underneath his blond eyelashes. "But I bet you're still sore."

"Why's that? I'm perfectly fine." Her face was impassive, but the way she moved gingerly was more than obvious.

"One: you're a terrible liar. Two: one of the runes is incorrect." They started walking to the manor, Valentine leading the mare by her reins. "Instead of the Mark for nullifying pain, you drew the one for speaking in tongues. An easy mistake to make – but you should try your Latin now."

"When's the last time you messed up a rune?" Valentine answered her with an innocently murmured "Just last year," and she raised her eyebrows unbelievingly. "Liar. And you know my Latin's horrifying – almost as bad as my French. I bet I couldn't speak both, even with the rune."

"You've improved immensely this summer. You're completely set to go into tenth year – Latin, that is."

"That's because you tutored me, Mr. AP Latin. Anyways, what did you get up to while I was cavorting around?"

He didn't miss a beat. "My mother wanted to talk."

"So she's _not _a ghost?"

"It seems like that at times. No, just the usual things – if you're liking the house, are we ready for school, etc."

"Ha! I probably like your house more than I like you. I'm sure your ego can deal with it." Melissa laughed, twining her arm with his in a way that felt precious and sacred to him, like a dying man in the desert taking his last sip of water. "And do you think we're ready for our last year at the Academy? After that, we're on our own – no authority figures! It'll be terribly boring with no one to piss off."

Valentine smirked, watching her eyes become sparkling emeralds in the sun. "Somehow, I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding others. Did I tell you that Aribelle's travelling with us to the Academy tomorrow? She told me she wants to have the full roommate experience."

"Yeah, and I'll give it to her. Lovely, really, minus the fact that I haven't put one thing in my suitcase yet." Melissa threw him a devilish grin. "I'll have to retrieve my panties from that place on your bedroom floor. Or it might have been the lampshade, I forget."

"I have no clue in hell what you're talking about. Although, I think I want to."

She giggled. "Whoa-ho there, slow down. Let's just get through dinner. Is your mom joining us?"

"She didn't look in the mood for it," Valentine replied carefully as they stepped up onto the fieldstone back patio. "Do you want to take dinner out here?"

"Sure, if the bugs don't eat me alive."

"I'll protect you," Valentine said with a smirk thrown over his shoulder as he disappeared inside to notify the kitchen staff of their dinner location.

He returned to find Melissa attempting to create a bug-repelling rune on the stone deck with minimal success, and the food followed closely behind him. They ate their last dinner at the Morgenstern manor in peace, preciously savouring the last forty-eight hours without homework and stress.

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><p>"So, I never really got what Practical Combat class you're in this year," she said when she had finished her last mouthful of spiced salmon, grilled to perfection. "Since you, you know, finished the bloody AP class last year."<p>

"Do you want the nice answer or the answer you'll smack me for?"

"Ooh, I like smacking people."

Valentine donned his most skeptical gaze before taking a swig of the apple cider he'd brought out in mugs for them both. "I know you do. I'll be assisting your regular tenth year class."

The skeptical expression transferred itself onto Melissa's face. "The Academy actually lets you do that?"

"I don't know if it's happened before, but yes, it is."

"Oh, right. Because it's Valentine Morgenstern," her smile and tone were so sarcastic it was painful.

He caught her in what was undeniably the sexiest grin she had ever witnessed. "I know I am."

Melissa evoked her inhuman muscles and was hovering over Valentine's sitting frame in a second, knees resting on either side of his thighs. "Shut up," she whispered before kissing him hard, holding his face roughly as she broke away, chest heaving. His left hand left its place on the cool patio and touched the back of her head, deftly untying her braids and raking its fingers through her dark tresses, which had dried into tiny waves, before pulling her towards him in a way that was all but gentle.

Heart pounding from his quick movements, she moved her hands from Valentine's face to the panes of his chest as they joined and parted mouths, running her fingertips along the raised scars of old Marks hiding under the thin material of his white button-down shirt. Every bit of skin they touched was on fire. Melissa shrugged her jacket off with her boyfriend's help, exposing pale arms and a plain tank top to the cooling evening air. Valentine slid his hands to her upper back. The brush and press of his palms on her hot skin as he drew her closer sent shivers down her arms and back – soon morphing into jolts of fear as she realized just how close they were, bodies touching at every possible surface. And how easily – with a flick of his wrist, trained reflexes impossibly quick – Valentine could have removed her shirt altogether.

"No – stop," Melissa panted, a part of her still screaming for his touch. Valentine, who had seemed as if he had lost his iron control for a second, set her down with as little contact as possible as if showing he had fully regained it. He gazed at her with dark eyes.

"Are you okay?" he murmured in tones laced with concern.

Melissa shuffled along the deck's surface to face him, showing none of the grace she usually displayed now in battle training. Drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin on her forearms, she looked at him with miserable, yet still slightly amused, eyes.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm not ready for something that looks similar to what happens in those clubs I perform in. But I shouldn't have just – well, _stopped – _like that. It's not fair to you. You're going to get – what's that expression again?"

Amusement sparkled in Valentine's eyes but he offered no clues for her. Instead, he reassured her in a serious tone. "I'll never force you to do anything you're not comfortable with. But there is another reason, isn't there?"

Melissa laughed suddenly. "If there is, I'm not telling you." He ran his fingertips lightly up her arm in a purely platonic gesture until she shrieked and smacked him on the dusty knees of his dark slacks. "Now I'm _definitely _not telling you."

"Come on," he pleaded mockingly, "It's obvious. You can talk dirty, but don't actually want to follow through: you're a V-I-R –"

"Fine!" Melissa nearly yelled as she scooted away just to avoid his fingers. "Yes, I'm a virgin. Happy? I've only been in Alicante for three years – no, I _haven't _slept with any managers, thanks – and before that I was with my _parents, _and only my parents, for 23 years. A bit scared of sex? Yes. A bit creepy if I _wasn't _a virgin? Yes."

"Okay," he laughed, raising a hand in an "enough" gesture. "You're valid. Now I'll have to protect your innocent body and mind more than ever."

"Hilarious. Have _you _done the naughty?"

Valentine's sixteen-year-old self couldn't help but smirk. "That's something you'll have to find out for yourself."

"You are _such _a guy."

"Actually, a true 'guy' answer would've been a lightning-fast 'yes'."

Melissa's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs. "And on that note, I'm going to bed. _And _locking the door, just so you know." She rose to her feet and padded across the patio to the back doors before Valentine's voice stopped her.

"Goodnight, Melissa."

"Night."

He turned slightly and looked over his shoulder, a small smile playing across his lips. "_Amo te." _

"Bite me." Her hands were at the door handles but she paused and turned again before pulling them open. "My Latin isn't _that _horrible, you know." And with that, Melissa's dark head disappeared into the manor house, leaving Valentine on the porch, shaking his head.

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><p><strong>No witty review sayings and it's only chapter one... ah well.<strong>


	3. Secrets, Part II

**A little bit overdue but still fine. A little bit of a shocker at the end... :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Secrets, Part II<strong>

Melissa jumped, straining to pry her own ten tonne eyelids open as a push to her side woke her. Then she jumped at least a foot with a shriek as she registered the luminous brown eyes hovering over her.

"Some Shadowhunter," Aribelle said over her shoulder to the doorway as Melissa shielded her sensitive eyes from the harsh morning light.

Melissa groaned. "What the hell, Aribelle? That idiot said you weren't going to be here until…ten or something."

She heard footsteps that couldn't belong to the blonde sitting on her bed crossing the room to the source of all the unwanted light. "This 'idiot' says that it's about ten-thirty," a distinctively masculine voice said from the window.

"By the Angel!" Melissa scrambled to cover her flimsy tank top and shorts with the bed sheets, even though she was boiling. "Who let him in here? Get him out! You didn't hear what he said last night!"

Aribelle's laughter filled the room. "So you're saying that your own boyfriend isn't allowed to be in your bedroom (which is actually a room in his house) in the mid-morning while you're fully dressed?"

"Exactly." Melissa shot Valentine her most potent glare, even more irked to find he was already dressed in his Academy shirt and pants – not that much of a change from his usual summer wardrobe. He was peering keenly out the window and didn't seem to notice.

She watched as Aribelle rose from the side of her bed and walked over to the open suitcase by the closet. Every item of clothing imaginable (usually either black, gray, another dark shade or jean fabric) had been thrown pell-mell into the waiting object, some not even making the journey into it and instead landing in crumpled heaps on the floor.

"I see you put a great deal of work into packing, Ryder."

Melissa turned her glare on her future roommate. "Sorry, I only had five or so minutes because I was too busy protecting myself from _him." _Both Aribelle and Valentine looked at her confusedly. "Like I said, you didn't hear what he said last night. The runes around this room are the strongest I know how to draw."

"So you're the cause of all my pain," Valentine mused dramatically, raising both hands. His palms and fingers were covered in first-degree burns, only fading now due to the _iratze _drawn on both. "You'll be happy to know they, at least, worked. Which ones did you use?"

Beaming with glee, Melissa sat up straighter. "Only ones that protect me from lechers, sleazebags, and any person with general perverse thoughts. I knew they would work!"

Valentine fixed her in an irritated stare while Aribelle snickered and began folding random items of clothing and placing them in the suitcase. "C'mon, the carriage leaves at noon, and we still have to pack all this crap." With a noise of indignation, Melissa dragged herself out of her bed and joined her friend. When Valentine made to help as well, she blocked his way.

"I am _not _letting you touch my undergarments, thank you. Since you were probably packed two months ago, you can just make us a sandwich or something."

"I wouldn't touch any food I brought you if I were you," he called as he exited the room and started down the hallway, his irate tone covering an underlying layer of amusement. Aribelle shot a look over to Melissa, who was struggling to stuff a particularly bulky hoodie into the case, and made sure she was out of her friend's reach.

"I'm fairly certain he's in love with you."

She still, somehow, managed to get smacked a moment later.

The private carriage left with only ten minutes to spare. Sitting curled up to the window beside her boyfriend, Melissa chose to watch the rolling hills and scattered forests transform into quaint cottages, farmhouses with sprawling acres of fields and the occasional family-owned store. She only heard parts of the others' conversation and contributed even less, content, for once, to listen to their opinions on everything from the Circle's plans for the coming year to new combat moves they picked up over the summer. She stopped listening altogether as they entered the city, dirt roads changing to cobblestone as builds rose around them like weeds. The time at Valentine's estate had been a thankful reprieve from Alicante's heat, noise, and demanding club managers, but Melissa found her spirits lifting at the familiar sights and smells of the Glass City. The countryside, while beautiful, brought up too many painful memories of her childhood and parents. If she craned her head out of the carriage window just right, she could catch a glimpse of the city's most well-known landmark – its three tremendously tall glass towers, shining in the sunlight like gigantic seraph blades.

The traffic was horrible because of the return of all Academy students, so it took close to forty minutes for them to reach the Academy's long porte-cochère driveway. The three tenth year students exited the carriage and worked on retrieving their luggage from the back. Melissa and Aribelle waited with their suitcases on the curb as Valentine tipped the driver, watching first and second year students exchange tearful goodbyes with their parents all around the front entrance.

"Please hit me if I ever act like that as a parent," Aribelle whispered to Melissa as she indicated a particularly worked up mother insisting on accompanying her son to his dorm. "And to think that these adults are the ones fighting demons!" She had said her goodbyes to her parents before arriving at the Morgenstern manor.

Melissa just acknowledged her with a grunt, feeling especially awkward around the emotional families. Valentine joined them, and they made their way into the even more hectic front entrance hall, where the harried secretary attempted to serve the needs of ten different families at once. Aribelle and Valentine steered Melissa over to a much calmer-looking desk on the opposite side where it appeared that the older grades were checking in. They made to join the back of the line before a shout reached their ears. Lucian was the source, waving his hand and gesturing for them to come join him at his place near the front of the line.

Strangely, the glares seemed to only be directed at Aribelle and Melissa as the three of them cut in line to where Luke was standing.

Signing in and acquiring their room keys went rather smoothly, considering Melissa flat-out refused to give them her date of birth. Aribelle spotted Jocelyn as they were hauling their luggage up the stairs and they promptly started relating tales of their summers. Both Jocelyn's and Luke's jaws hit the floor when they found out that Melissa had spent the last weeks of her summer at the Circle leader's house.

"I was probably drunk when I agreed," she said as they arrived on the fifth floor landing. "Shit, we really have five more bloody floors to go up?"

Jocelyn nodded gravely. "I bet its part of our training that they've worked in here. Damn, I'm envious of those first years right now."

They put the rest of their breath and energy to climbing the next five flights of stairs.

The group of four (with the exception of Valentine, for some reason or another) had never been permitted to view the tenth year floor perched at the very top of the dormitory building, but there was no surprises – it was almost identical to the ninth. They took a quick glance around the common area, admiring the slightly newer furniture and full kitchenette, before the guys and girls split into their separate hallways. Both genders were allowed in both halls into curfew was in effect ("12:00am?" Melissa had scoffed while reading the notice on the central bulletin board), but both sets of roommates were anxious to get rid of the heavy suitcases attached to their arms.

Aribelle directed Melissa to the third door on the left and watched her key slide into the lock like they were old friends. "Can't use runes, everyone knows how to use a stele," she explained as she pushed open the door and led the way into their new room.

It was small and completely bare, only containing two twin beds, two desks and a door leading into the tiny shared bathroom. The square windows above each of the beds provided the main source of light at the moment, yet the witchlight lamps on the desks looked powerful enough to dispel darkness in the evenings.

Already exhausted from all the new events of the day, Melissa immediately flopped down on the nearest bed. Thoughts that had been consuming her for the past month surfaced to the forefront of her mind.

_Alicante, Idris: August 1984_

_Melissa strode down the alley with purpose, all too aware of what could happen if she didn't. The air, blessedly cool after a day of unbearable heat, washed over her in waves as she set her feet her townhome after a performance gone well. She was mentally running through the next few days' agendas – runes for healing on her forehead tonight to deal with her growing headache, picnic with Aribelle and Jocelyn tomorrow morning, dance rehearsal in the afternoon, Valentine wanting to do Angel-knows-what the next evening – and didn't see the demon until it was literally on top of her._

_Her seraph blade caught the moonlight as it was whipped from her bag and plunged into the creature's flesh. Her head was on fire as it lashed out furiously and she rolled with the impact, throwing her bag to the side as she scrambled up a second too late. Its claws raked her face as she fell back to the ground with jarring impact. Pride kept the yell of distress in her throat as she stared the thing down, blood running down her cheeks like tears. _

_The cuts were shallow, and the pain couldn't compare with the agony in her head. "Bloody demon, you're about to meet your maker." She spat blood on the ground as she grappled with the pain, pinning it for one short second, and using that time to spring up and slice the demon's head clean off._

_She fought the tears of relief as the pain vanished along with the demon's body. Moving to pick up her bag from where it lay near a discarded barrel, Melissa froze as an errant thought held her mind in its grip – what would she do come September, when the Academy sent its tenth year students on their practical assignments? _

_The idea plagued her with dread the entire walk home._

"Aribelle?" Melissa said, propping herself up on the bed with her elbows. "Can I get your endless knowledge about something?"

The blonde stopped draping her clothes over hangers in the closet and turned. "What _could _you want? Sounds like something expensive, with that bribe."

"Just to have your ear for a few minutes. Okay, maybe more than a few. Plus, you might want to sit down."

Leaping gracefully over her suitcase and moving to the door, Aribelle asked, "If it's going to take more than a few, can I go get dinner first? They let us have it up here on the first night. I can get you something – if you actually _start _unpacking, that is."

"Deal. I hate mushrooms, FYI."

When Aribelle returned with two plates of steaming roast chicken and garden salad, Melissa hadn't moved from her place on the bed. "You're never getting dinner from me again," she threatened as she sat down opposite Melissa and dug into her chicken. "By the Angel, I could never be a vegetarian. Anyway, what was it that you wanted?"

Melissa cleared her throat, and Aribelle's eyes widened as she realized that her friend was visibly _nervous._

"First, you're not as fanatically into the Circle's ideals as Valentine is, right? I mean, if you are, we can just forget this was ever brought up."

"Oh, no." Aribelle looked at her with a warm concern that made Melissa feel more at home than in her own house. "I don't think anybody but Valentine himself is. Actually, Luke's a pretty avid follower. But you've got to tell me now."

"And –" Melissa's fingers clenched the mattress as she stared at her _parabatai, _suddenly fierce. "You cannot tell a _soul. _Swear on the Angel, right now."

It only made the concern in her friend's eyes blossom. "I swear on Raziel himself that I will not tell a soul."

Melissa exhaled, as if a small weight had already been lifted from her shoulders. "I guess I'll cut right to the chase, then. This is only my second time relating this, so forgive me if I'm a tad rusty. I'm – I'm immortal."

She got a pause, then a blank stare covering an intelligent mind that had clearly heard what she had uttered and was clicking frantically away to work out the reasons why. "You're _what?"_

"Almost four years ago, when I was twenty-three – _yes_, I'm twenty-six, don't look at me like that – I was out in the woods around my manor and heard the screams of a little girl. Turns out, it was a greater demon just trying to get free of some curse. He probably would've killed me where I stood, except for the fact that –"

"That you were in his debt, right? I mean, I've read about this in textbooks – really obscure stuff, actually – and he could either serve you until the debt was repaid or give you something, like a gift."

Melissa sighed in amusement, already assured by the interested, not judgmental, sheen to her friend's eyes. "Yes, and do you want to hear about the rest, or have your textbooks told you?"

Aribelle shook her head with a wince of apology and was silent.

"Okay, and so I asked for immortality. He gave it to me, but took something in return…childbirth. I'm infertile, but that doesn't really matter to me. But you remember those headaches I got last year, in the gardens outside the Accords Hall and – well, you know –"

"When I was captured," Aribelle continued irately, "I'm not bothered by it, you know."

Melissa didn't know if she believed her but ignored her pronouncement with difficulty. "Those headaches are most likely caused by that first encounter, and how that damn thing gave me a gift. And shit, they're intense. So, I need a way to make them stop before we go on some assignment, and I either get a failing grade or end up dead. You have any ideas?"

Aribelle was at a loss of words for a moment. "Well…whoa, just let it all sink in for a moment," she started. "My best friend and _parabatai _is immortal. And doesn't like mushrooms. Should I be keeping a journal or something?"

Melissa laughed, relieved beyond belief that the girl sitting opposite her was perfectly okay with everything she had said. "I'd be a great science experiment, I know, but no."

The bedsprings creaked as Aribelle flopped backwards. "I honestly cannot think of anything that would do it off the top of my head. I mean, a rune would nullify it temporarily, but you're looking for something permanent. Gosh, I'm sorry, Mel. I feel horrible knowing that my fighting partner is in pain every time we battle a demon – or having to buy her mundane drugs! Which is the lesser of two evils, I wonder? But no, I don't know. It's going to keep me up all night, I'm sure of it."

Melissa couldn't hold back any longer. She jumped from her own bed and tackled Aribelle on hers, hugging her with everything she had. "By the Angel, Ari. Thanks so much. For everything."

And Aribelle knew exactly what "everything" meant. "I wonder what Valentine would think if he walked in right now?"

"I don't even want to know."

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><p><strong>Reviews are always appreciated!<strong>


	4. First

**Rather proud of myself for still updating frequently. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: First<strong>

Melissa woke to gray dreariness outside the window, a faint dusting of witchlight illuminating the room, and Aribelle sitting cross-legged on her bed, dressed in her uniform and reading furiously.

"Nice of you to join the waking world," she said while maintaining eye contact with her book when Melissa made a noise to signal her consciousness. "I've been scanning our new textbooks for the past hour and found absolutely nothing – breakfast's in ten minutes by the way, so you better get ready."

Melissa propped herself up on her elbows, suddenly awake. "Our new textbooks?"

"Yeah, they were delivered last night. Your eighth year Mundane Studies one is especially gorgeous." She shot her friend a smirk before snapping her book shut.

"Shut up. And let me get this straight, you've been up for an _hour?"_

Aribelle nodded as if it wasn't something akin to death, and Melissa grinned before dragging herself out of bed. "Then you truly must be my best friend. But that's still ghastly."

"I hope you remember that when we're fighting a particularly bloodthirsty demon and you have an escape route!"

They were five minutes late for breakfast, much to Aribelle's chagrin, and they found that the Circle members had claimed their usual table, devouring the pile of flat golden pancakes before them. A brown-haired boy was tapped on the shoulder and turned with a shout, standing so fast he almost tripped over the bench and opening his arms wide. Aribelle ran and hugged him so forcefully that the pancakes were only saved by the quick reflexes of Michael Wayland.

Melissa slid into the spot between Valentine and Jocelyn and bemusedly watched Aribelle with her boyfriend. "Oliver sure looks happy. Bet he was waiting for this moment all summer."

"Most likely," agreed Valentine, flipping a bread knife with his fingers before buttering a piece of toast. "So how long did it take Aribelle to get you up?"

"To assume, dear friend, makes an ass of both "u" and "me.'" Melissa bit into a fresh pear with relish.

"You can't tell me I'm wrong though. Oh look, timetables are coming."

Melissa had enrolled halfway through last school year, so she had never experienced the sudden rise in volume as teachers moved throughout the tables, handing each student a slip of stiff paper.

The tenth year students were a bit calmer. Valentine accepted his with a nod of thanks and glanced at it before continuing to eat. Melissa scanned over her name and homeroom, which was the same as the others', before moving to the schedule.

"I got my free block!" she announced to nobody in particular. "And there's one first thing Wednesday morning. I think I have a new favourite day. But Latin three times a week, ew. Practical Combat first thing Monday is okay, though." She spotted Valentine's timetable lying unguarded on the table and made a dive for it before its owner could stop her.

"AP Latin, AP Rune Theory, AP Demonology, AP Weapon Theory and Handling, and let's not forget the assistant position in Practical Combat. You have got to be shitting me."

Valentine gave his girlfriend an irritated glance but accepted the praise from around the table with grace.

Jocelyn leaned across Melissa to see. "Oh, we're in the same Rune Theory and Demonology classes. Did you hear we're getting a new teacher, by the way?" Valentine nodded, and Melissa questioned the way she had addressed both herself and the boy beside her.

"There aren't enough students for a complete Advanced Rune Theory class, so they combine them but get different assignments." She shifted her focus to Valentine. "Congratulations on getting the TA spot in Combat, though." The happiness in her expression appeared somewhat strained to Melissa.

Melissa changed the subject, gesturing to where Aribelle, Oliver, and Luke were comparing timetables. "Let's hope those don't have a single class together."

"Unfortunately, they do," Luke answered. "But shouldn't we be worried about you and your girl, Valentine?"

"If we're worrying about anything, it should be violence," Aribelle laughed while Melissa protested vehemently about being called Valentine's "girl." Leila, her long hair curled and light blonde after two months of sunshine, joined in the laughter and conversation until the bell tolled for homeroom.

Homeroom was located in a first floor room nearly identical to their one last year and was nothing overly exciting. A lecture of the responsibilities of being the oldest students in the school (everyone looked to the _oldest _student and sniggered at the thought of responsibility) conducted by their new homeroom teacher, Mr. Blackwell, took all of the ten minutes given and made most students seriously consider dropping out that very day. Itching for physical activity and battle practice, they made their collective way down to the central courtyard only to find Mr. Cartwright in the place of seraph blades and Mr. Youngblood, the usual Practical Combat teacher and a school favourite. Even Valentine had to sit and take notes concerning the safety practices they all _should _(and, for most of them, _did_) know by this time. Most were then shooed off to Latin while Valentine departed for Greek. By the end of the horrible morning, Melissa's head was pounding and her notebook was full of doodles. Her personal favourite pictured her and Aribelle as scantily clad superheroes and Valentine as a scantily clad servant in a mansion built of all three teachers' dismembered limbs.

She was called over to eat with Aribelle and Jocelyn on the grass as she walked down a pathway skirting the outside of a building. They chatted and tried to talk positively, and Aribelle gave Melissa a sly smirk as she subtly inquired after Valentine's whereabouts. Jocelyn said something about spotting him writing furiously in an empty classroom and the subject turned to other things, for everyone knew not to disturb the Circle leader when he was like that.

"This is terrible," Melissa moaned as the bell signaled the end of the lunch hour and they followed Jocelyn's lead to the Rune Theory classroom with dread. "If every Monday is like this, I may not come back from my first demon hunting assignment. And _everyone _will be jealous."

Aribelle nodded her agreement as Jocelyn led them to the third floor of the sub-building and pushed open the first door on the left. "I hope this new teacher was fired from wherever they came from for being too exciting. But Latin adverbs are surprisingly easy!"

Melissa was about to demonstrate her colourful vocabulary on the subject of Latin adverbs when she entered the classroom and caught sight of the teacher standing near the blackboard. Jocelyn gave a little gasp of excitement, for it was a woman – and the number of women teaching at the Academy could be counted on three fingers.

Their classmates were milling around the tables staggered throughout the room: wood paneled like usual, but a little less luxurious and decorated than the ones in the main building. A table sat four, and as Lucian, Michael, and Valentine occupied most of the middle one, the three girls chose the one next to it. They were joined by Leila a minute later.

The bell tolled again and the teacher had to quiet the class as Michael tossed a jeering comment to the table behind him. Melissa had to face the board before she could look at its recipient. But she still saw Valentine stop writing in his notebook and tear the sheet off before her eyes swung to face her teacher.

"Alright – you can call me Miss Nightwine and before I say another word, I'll have you know that I'm not your teacher for the year. He is indisposed – yes, I know that's the teacher word for slacking – and won't be available until next week. At least, that's the extent of my knowledge."

Melissa nodded in approval of her brusque manner while Aribelle and Jocelyn sighed at her use of a male pronoun for their actual instructor.

"Secondly, I was just issued two announcements from the main office. I am to assume you all know about the Fall Carnival that will take place this weekend?" The class nodded in collective excitement. It was subdued, though – like child receiving ice cream after he'd got the treat every other day that week.

"But I'm not sure that you're all aware that the tenth years have to volunteer a minimum of three hours to run it. I'm passing the sign-up sheet around, and expect everyone's names on it in the next fifteen minutes." The statement drained most of the excitement from the room. It was passed to a boy called Hodge first. Melissa knew him as a fringe member of the Circle, and he often beat Aribelle as the class brainiac. His hand shot up as he scanned the paper with small, sharp eyes.

"Yes, Mr. …?"

"Starkweather, ma'am."

"Yes, Mr. Starkweather?"

"What's this on the bottom half – "Sign up for Italy Trip?'"

The effect was instant. Every student began chatting with their neighbor, and five pairs of hands tried to wrestle the paper from Hodge at once.

"Quiet!" The command was so loud that many looked around; not believing it could come from the teacher's small frame. But when she started speaking again, she had a smile on her face.

"That was the second. The school is organizing an _educational _weekend trip to our neighbouring mundane country. It'll take place two weeks from now. Forms to mail home to your parents or guardians can be found at the front desk, and you can pay the fee there as well. It's open to all students, but you'll be splitting into your respective grades in the daytime. There'll be cultural and mundane experiences in Venice, a stay at the Institute in Rome, and a practical assignment at the end of it all." Melissa felt the jolt of fear in her breast clash with the frenzied murmuring all around her and pushed it down with difficulty.

"And there'll be food," Miss Nightwine continued, "Lots and lots of food. Now Mr. Starkweather there has the initial sign-up sheet, it'll be passed around, _please _do not forget to sign up for a volunteer position as well, and I do not want to hear the "I" word for the rest of the class." She took a breath and fixed Luke and Michael, who were already compiling a list of spaghetti dishes, with a stare. "Now, I want you to find a partner and draw the most complicated rune you know on them. I don't care if it makes them turn into a pumpkin. On second thought, avoid Marks for loudness, rowdiness and energy. Away you go!"

She began to circulate around the class. Melissa turned to find her _parabatai _already drawing a rune unknown to her on her upper arm and frantically fished in her bag for her textbook to find its meaning before her friend made her grow a third arm or something equally as absurd. The whoosh of air her Rune Theory text displaced as it thumped on the table caused the sheet of paper she had missed before to flutter towards the ground. Melissa made a mad dive for it, recognizing Valentine's elegant scrawl at once as she read it on the way back up.

_Circle Meeting at 9:00 tonight underneath the big oak._

_Pass it on._

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><p>The perpetual drizzle that had kept Alicante in its grasp all day had finally ceased, as if even the weather couldn't deny the charismatic Circle leader's wishes. Melissa pushed her way out of the dormitory building's heavy front door and started down the path to the central courtyard. Aribelle had promised to be down in a few minute's time, having spent most of the early evening helping with (doing) Melissa's Latin sheets and only now beginning to work on her own. The brunette herself emerged from the shadow of the old trees lining the side path and crossed the expanse of stone, making her way to the enormous redwood rooted in a square of grass roughly five meters across in the center of it all. It would take the arm widths of Melissa, Aribelle, and Jocelyn to fully encircle the trunk of the massive tree. She could already see people milling beneath it in the semi-darkness, illuminated by two witchlight lanterns.<p>

Melissa arrived at the meeting ten minutes fashionably late. Jocelyn and Leila nodded to her in greeting from their seats on the lawn. When she actually looked around, it was clear that almost everyone was already there and seated – she could even spot a few of the third and fourth years they had picked up towards the end of last year – and it seemed as if they were waiting for something.

"So the party hasn't started yet?" she said to no one in particular, suddenly aware she was on display at the front of the group.

"I was waiting for a very influential member," said the voice behind her with its familiar amused tone, and when she turned around Valentine took her lips in a passionate kiss.

Her cheeks heated in a very uncomfortable way, painfully aware that they were very public throughout the time that their lips were locked. Yet, she felt some of the tension leave her body when she saw the many faces now gazing at her in barely disguised awe. Pride pooled inside her as she realized what he had done – he had made it very obvious to friends and acquaintances alike that both he and she were off limits, and that nothing was going to change his mind about it.

"You're trying to kill me, right?" she brought her face to his ear and whispered before moving to sit beside Leila at the edge of the group. He gave her small smile before looking back to his Circle, one that felt extremely intimate even when surrounded by more than a class's worth of kids. Melissa was beginning to recognize that she was romantically involved with the leader of a powerful body of people – and she couldn't help but love how that was a powerful thing in itself.

"I'm so glad that everyone was able to make it so soon after the summer," he started, smiling warmly at his collective audience. "I'm sure you've noticed that there are no new people joining us tonight. Of course, I wasn't able to get the word around fast enough, this being the first day of school. But I'm sure we won't be opposed to adding a few more into our ranks?"

He stood there; and was no adult instructor, albeit the perfect posture, pressed shirt and impeccably cut slacks. Yet, the sixteen-year-old boy managed to get a resounding shout of conformation from a group of nearly forty kids and teenagers.

"I know I can count on our group to get the message around strictly via word of mouth," he continued, smile no bigger than it had been before the shout. But it was Valentine, and he merely expected it; anything less would have disappointed him, and none of the students gathered wanted to do that. "I do not think the teachers would take kindly to any sort of poster on the wall. Just be sure to mention our next meeting – next week's Tuesday at eight, by the way – whenever you bring up the _other _piece of news circulating around the school. Which brings me to our next order of business.

"Please, if at all possible, try and accompany us on the trip to Italy in two weeks' time. It will be a great chance to improve our skills in a more realistic setting and get to fight in battle with our other members. And," he paused, "I may plan something for the overnight stay in Rome that you won't want to miss."

Melissa felt Aribelle sit down beside her and murmured a distracted hello, taking the opportunity to glance around at the crowd. All faces, but especially the younger ones, were turned upwards and nodding enthusiastically, drinking in his every word and knowing without a doubt that they would do anything they could to go on this trip. It had alarmed Melissa at first, but now it sparked a sense of camaraderie that she had never experienced before. This was a group of people, all with the same goals and purpose, and she was at the center of it all.

Valentine quieted the murmurs of speculation on what he was planning with a raise of his hand. "I hope to see you all there. That is all for tonight, and please remember our mission: to reform the horribly corrupt group that governs us and create a new world where we walk in the light of the mundanes' praise and admiration and demons and Downworlders alike fall in disgrace at our feet. _Hoc__signi__erit__vincere_ and goodnight."

There was nodding, clapping, and even a few murmurs of _hoc signi erit vincere _in return. Melissa stretched from her place on the ground with a groan while the students rose around her, breaking off into little groups to discuss the night's agenda. Aribelle stayed with her on the ground, a strange look almost mirroring the sudden uneasiness in Melissa's own gut playing across her face for a second before speaking_._

"So you're going to _Italia, _right?" Her voice was almost too chipper, even for the blonde.

Melissa shook her head and fell back into the soft grass, still damp from the earlier rain. "Psh, no. Seen one city, seen them all. Don't have a clue where I'd get the money from." The last statement was a lie – she had accumulated more than enough money through her performing to pay for the trip.

She pulled herself up onto her elbow to look at Aribelle more seriously. "Plus, until we get something figured out…"

Aribelle nodded, looking miserable about not having been able to think of a cure in under five minutes. "I know. There's still a bit of time left, though – I'll try my hardest to think of something before then. And, if you really don't have the money, I'm pretty sure I know a great source."

Melissa's eyebrows rose suspiciously. "What?"

"It's called your boyfriend, Valentine Morgenstern. Have you heard of him?"

Aribelle's arm received a healthy smack. "Shut it. By the way, he did something at the start of the meeting that would've flipped your top." She sighed dramatically. "You should've taken a page out of my book and put off that Latin until the next day. Or the next, or the next."

Aribelle gave a chuckle of pity. "That's just your problem. And that reminds me, remember question seven on your sheet today? You got it wrong. _Jejunium__hominum__, _not vice versa. So it's time to go back and do it again."

It took three tries to get Melissa on her feet. "Are you my _parabatai _or my mom?" she questioned sarcastically, trying to distract her friend from the way she searched with her eyes for a singular person before they turned to leave. He was standing closest to the tree's base, deep in conversation with the couple of admiring fourth years that had come. But just before she swung her eyes back to Aribelle, he looked up and caught her in a smile so warm the earlier uneasiness almost faded entirely.

But as she walked back to the dorm with Aribelle, she realized what it was. It was the very first time Valentine had mentioned Downworlders along with demons in his closing speech.

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><p><strong>Review review review review... exciting news concerning reviews next chapter so REVIEW! Did I mention to review yet? :D<strong>


	5. Glancing at Fate

**I am so sorry for how overdue this is. Even though it's been written for a while, I still needed to edit it and then real life got in the way with a trip to New Jersey during hurricane Irene and stuff with - dare I say it - the _opposite _gender that's still going on. Not to mention I'm moving tomorrow to a new town and starting a new school the very next day. But enough with the excuses, the next chapter certainly won't take as long. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Glancing at Fate<strong>

Melissa's fingers, in the middle of playing _F__ü__r Elise _for what she assumed to be the twentieth time this evening, caressed the ivory keyboard of the full grand piano as the painfully well-known melody floated out of the instrument. The crowd gathered before the dais where she played didn't bother her in the least – she remembered nights when she had up to five times as many seated in the smoky parlor, gazing up at her with eyes watching every quick jump of her nimble fingertips. Yet, she wasn't afraid of mistakes even then, for she was fairly certain she could play songs such as this one in her sleep.

Which also meant she was ready to kill the next person who requested it.

She had only been able to observe the festive decorations and attractions on the way to the musician's stage, for they had rushed her there as soon as the Carnival commenced. Flags bearing runes in every colour imaginable crisscrossed over the stage and every pathway. The spaces between the lanes were lined equally with game booths and vendors and the very air vibrated richly with clicks of gamers' wheels of fortune, vendors' shouts and excited exclamations. And there were people everywhere – every first year was having the time of their lives, often under their parents' watchful eyes, and every other Academy student and their parents sounded like they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Though many attendees didn't have children that attended the Academy, the Fall Carnival was a long-running and beloved event in Alicante, and many Nephilim who lived in the city attended faithfully.

Detaching her mind from the cluttering noises around her and sinking deeper into the music, Melissa merged the song's last A octave into the beginning of Mozart's _Sonata in C Major, _skimming through the upbeat first movement with ease and gliding gracefully into the more _andante _second movement. The notes were all around her: she _was _the music. Her heart soared as her fingers danced into the fastest, most difficult last movement, planning to end with an improvised ending and go seek out friends and food afterwards. Yet, when she shot a quick glance at the sheet music, her eyes captured another image as well, one that almost made her fingers slip – Valentine was at the crowd's very back, leaning against the ticket booth's wooden post with a small smile playing across his angular face. Luke stood beside him, eyes wide and impressed.

The smirk that crept across her face was much too powerful to fight. Only a few notes away from the end of the sonata, she made her fingers pause, mentally willing the sound to be drawn out as long as possible. Stretching her hands to their utmost limit, Melissa looked back to the instrument and began playing one of the hardest pieces she knew from memory.

The already impossibly quick notes of the third movement of Beethoven's _Moonlight Sonata _started filling the air much faster than a human's fingers could ever hope to produce them.

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><p>Valentine gave up on trying to watch her fingers and let the melody wash over him from where he stood. "She's got quite a manly streak in her personality, doesn't she?" he murmured to Luke, but shushed him when he made to ask what he meant. They stayed throughout the entire song, for she played so beautifully that they couldn't have torn themselves away if they had wanted to. When Melissa had let her last chord fade into silence, she rose to deafening applause and gave a quick, graceful bow but withheld the smile that any amateur performer would have given. A nervous ninth year stepped onto the stage and exchanged a few words with Melissa before instantly starting to play a piece that was half the level that the audience had just heard. A few stood and vacated their seats at once.<p>

Melissa's steps mingled with the noise around her as she approached Valentine from behind, yet he still turned to greet her when she was five yards away. "That was incredible," he praised when she stood before him. "Why is it, whenever I ask you to play for me, you play things like _Chopsticks?"_

She laughed as he pulled her into a chaste hug, and didn't resist him for once. There was a lingering sweet, proud, and almost playful air about her that Valentine had only caught glimpses of when she was onstage.

"I like to remain a woman of mystery," she replied with a smirk when she had pulled away. Luke congratulated her while trying (and failing) not to look as awkward as he had felt watching his best friend and his girlfriend embrace. Valentine had noticed, and suggested that they meet up with Aribelle and Jocelyn to get something to eat.

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><p>The main food court was calling one of the two smaller courtyards of the Academy home, and the three students could smell it long before they entered it. Melissa left the two guys to get dinner and bond, as she had heard Aribelle call it earlier, and went to find where the blonde and her red-headed friend had been stationed to serve food to the crowds of people in the square. She visited vendors selling salads and a foreign type of pie and received a wave from Michael at the dessert buffet before seeing a flash of crimson hair stand out behind the table of the hotdog stand.<p>

"Nice wieners," Melissa commented when she had elbowed her way to the front.

Aribelle snorted while handing over a customer's order, causing the woman to glance at her meal suspiciously. "But not as nice as yours over there," she gestured to where Valentine was conversing with Luke and Michael at a table a few yards away. "Do you know where I can get me one of those?"

"I am definitely not buying a thing from you now," Melissa pronounced with a grin. "When are you two off?"

An angry yell caused Aribelle to hastily join Jocelyn at the grill. "Not for an hour yet, babe. We just got a break fifteen minutes ago. There's a hilarious game just a few stalls over from the entrance to the main courtyard – you always lose, but it's so much fun to watch others make a fool of themselves. You and Valentine could go check it out until then."

Melissa shot a glance over to her boyfriend, still eating and talking. It looked like a few shy preteens were gathering around their table, still dressed in crisp Academy uniform. She adjusted the straps of her little black dress and leaned in over the counter.

"Maybe, but not with him. Actually, I don't really feel like going anywhere with him tonight." While the new position of respect most students held her in had followed her around like a shadow the last few days, she was all but ignorant of the dirty looks some of the older girls had started flashing her when she was with him. "I think I'm going to give him the slip right now."

Both girls behind the counter gave her approving nods. "Girls' night out!" said Jocelyn with a smile. "What's your cover?"

"Tell him I went back to the common room because I wanted to get changed."

Aribelle flew over to her with a steaming hotdog clutched in a napkin and thrust it upon her. "A 'dog for the road, free of charge. Just don't let Ms. Logan catch you with it – I think I saw her around here with her sixty year old husband a few minutes ago."

Melissa made a face before taking the food. "Meet you at that game you mentioned a little past nine o'clock?"

They both nodded affirmatively and watched Melissa melt into the crowd and disappear.

She drifted through the crowd for nearly half an hour, content to think and people-watch without other's words cluttering her thoughts. It felt to her as if she had circled the entire Carnival grounds three or four times before a colourful, shabby tent stood out at her in amongst the brightly lit clean ones on either side of it. Feeling that she needed another time-waster, Melissa pushed aside the flap and entered, a battered wooden side scrawled with the words _Vadoma's Fortune Telling_ creaking above her head.

The tent's dark interior was lit only by a display of dusty candles in the center, and even those didn't dispel the shadows in the corners. They prowled on the fabric's surface, Melissa's keen eyes and overactive imagination transforming them into human shapes. The woman who sat in the center of it all with a face thrown into sharp relief by the flickering candles was slender and youthful, but the deep green pits of her eyes displayed intelligence that was incredibly old. That and the pointed brown horns that grew above her ears and cast nightmarish shadows on the wall behind betrayed what she really was – an impossibly old warlock.

Melissa could hear her heart pounding with fear and excitement alike as the creature raised her gaze from something in her lap. The Nephilim woman felt naked under its stare.

"Come, little demon girl," she whispered lightly in a voice utterly unlike what Melissa expected. "You wouldn't want to be thought of as afraid."

It was a statement, not a taunt, yet Melissa felt her blood boil nonetheless. She crossed the tent in two strides and sat herself down on the dusty velvet cushion opposite the warlock. _Remember what Valentine said. It's a Downworlder, and we Nephilim will always be stronger than it. _

The she-warlock let out a high-pitched laugh of approval. "That's it. I like the ones like you – you can always make them do what you want them to do simply by dare. So what're you in here for, girly?"

Melissa met her piercing gaze with a fierce green-eyed stare of her own. "To get my fortune read – don't tell me you offer beauty treatments as well." She dug in a side pocket of her dress and threw a few heavy gold coins on the floor between them. "Too bad I'm wasting my money on this. I have no way of knowing if it works or not." Melissa felt a burning need to challenge this woman and get the better of her.

The warlock reached out a delicate hand jangling with bracelets and counted the coins before slipping two into the folds of her tunic-like blue dress and leaving the third untouched. "You'll know," she murmured softly. "It may take months, or years, but you'll know."

Melissa was about to ask exactly how that would help her but smartly held her tongue.

With a small smile, like she had read her thoughts, the warlock held out her hand wordlessly. Melissa understood and placed her right hand, palm up, in the woman's; making sure to flash a good view of the _clairvoyance _rune on the back of the same hand. The Shadowhunter struggled not to flinch at the Downworlder's touch – it was cold and foreign on her skin.

"Touched by a demon, aren't you special," she murmured, sounding as if the information was merely confirming an earlier guess. Melissa stayed valiantly still and silent.

"Yet, it is your future you're interested in, of course," came the further murmuring and Melissa regarded her with cold eyes. "Let's see what I can give you."

A long, painted nail slid across a small crease in Melissa's palm, sending shivers down her spine. "You will be relatively deceived by both death and these words," the warlock said in her soft voice, glancing up at Melissa with a smile. Melissa opened her mouth to demand a translation, but her fortune teller held up a finger. "Temptation will only be possible when everything is in a perfect alignment." The nail continued caressing her pale palm. "Your other half will – what is this, now – _kill _your other half, albeit unintentionally. And –" she snapped her eyes open and held Melissa in a gaze that paralyzed the young Shadowhunter. "The Morning Star will defeat the darkness, and in turn be consumed by it."

Ripping her hand from the warlock's grasp, Melissa jumped up so fast she almost unbalanced herself. "That's all, right?" she yelled, oblivious to the blood trickling down her fingers from a cut in her right palm, "_Shit, _that had better be all." She was almost deafened by the pounding of her own heart. Something had been said just minutes before that she knew in the very core of her being that she hadn't wanted to hear. It was making fear stir more violently in her than any demonic presence could ever hope to cause.

"Don't look fate in the eyes and then turn away, my dear!" the warlock called sweetly as Melissa stumbled backwards out of the tent, her whole body hell-bent on getting as far away from the Downworlder as possible. She ran up the curiously deserted pathway, breathing the Angel's name in relief as she joined the crowds in the next more populated dirt lane. People had been steadily filtering from the fairgrounds while she had been in the warlock's tent, but there was still enough Shadowhunters around her to make her feel safe. Melissa forcibly slowed herself to a walk and passed acrobats, mock battle areas, games, and a kid's area with bright, rune covered colouring books as she took the most direct route she knew back to the dormitory building. Chills that had nothing to do with the fall evening air shot down her spine as she realized that, while dragging her nails up and down her palm at random, the warlock had never actually _looked _at her hand once.

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><p><strong>Reviews are always welcomed with open arms!<strong>


	6. Power, Real or Imagined

**Once again I apologize for the delay, but I've just been through my first week of a new high school and man is it tiring /end excuses. I like this chapter. :D**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Power, Real or Imagined<strong>

"And five, six, seven, eight!"

Melissa chasséd from the corner in a flurry of concentration and dark curls. She cleared half the studio's hardwood floor with two consecutive axel turns, relishing in the way her unbound hair whipped her face, and chaine turned faster than the human eye could see in preparation. First one foot, then both, left the ground for the highest switch jump she could muster – she brought her left leg forward, perfectly straight, then whipped it back equally as fast to be replaced by the right –

And then the warlock's words flashed behind her eyes like lightening and she tumbled to the ground in a heap.

"What the hell, Belielle?" her instructor yelled from her place on the side wall. In another second she was beside her. One of the first people she had met in the city, Melisa was usually fond of Eva's uncouth mouth and blunt manner, but today she wanted to smack her.

The tall, muscular dirty blonde helped Melissa to her feet forcefully, ignoring her sharp intake of breath. "You were executing those perfectly just last week," Eva continued. Melissa was tall for a woman, but her dance instructor was still able to look down on her. "In fact, you've been slow and ugly all morning. What's screwed you up?"

Melissa spread her legs and let herself fall into the splits, something that had always been as easy as breathing. As she stretched one arm over the opposite leg, she muttered, "Dunno. Must've partied hard last night." It was nearly noon, and the warlock's predictions still echoed as clearly as they had the night before.

Eva adjusted her spandex leggings and squatted down in front of her. "Bullshit. Your extreme wittiness is appreciated at times, but now certainly isn't one of them. Randy will hear about this."

"I really don't give a damn what my manager hears, or thinks," Melissa replied, but was too weary to lace her words with venom. She leaned forward, bending her feet to full Pointe and yanking the neck of her tank top up. "The Academy's hosting a trip to Italy this coming weekend."

"And are you going?"

"No."

Eva nodded. "Good. That school's supposed to be strengthening you, and I have seen some improvement, but it's mostly been eating up valuable practice time. It's bad enough that you had to skip last night's show because of that fair. And those two weeks at the end of the summer, Angel knows why."

Melissa bit her lip, finding the idea of Eva knowing about Valentine faintly amusing.

"You've got songs ready for Saturday? New ones?"

"More than the number of outfits in Randy's extensive closet."

Eva allowed her a small smile. "Good. Now, if you work harder, we might be done by three."

Melissa rose with a groan and started triple pirouettes on the spot.

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><p>She actually insisted on staying until six, effectively missing dinner, and was asleep by the time her roommate entered their dorm; body sprawled across her bed in exhaustion. With great effort on her part, Melissa was also gone when Aribelle woke Monday morning and was nowhere to be found at breakfast. The anxious blonde grilled Valentine for knowledge, but he was just as puzzled as she. Aribelle finally caught sight of a dark head of curls on the way to their first class of the morning: Practical Combat, which took place every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning according to the timetable already committed to Aribelle's memory. She ran to catch up, barely avoiding a group of chattering third years.<p>

"You didn't meet with us at the fair and have been avoiding everyone since," she started, "and don't even try to deny it." They were halfway to the courtyard already, so talk time was limited.

"Yeah, I have," Melissa stated harshly, but felt terrible when her friend's face visibly fell. "I'm sorry. But I got the shit scared out of me by something I heard at the Carnival." It may have been because the girl beside her knew her darkest secret or just impulse, but Melissa found herself telling the truth either way.

Most of Aribelle's annoyance faded like morning dew in sunlight. "You want to talk about it?" They rounded a young willow tree and stepped out onto the cement of the courtyard, where half the class was already gathered in the middle.

"No."

"I hope you know you can trust me with anythi –" her voice, bloated with concern, was cut off by the appearance of their Practical Combat teacher.

"Alright," Mr. Ravenscar began, flicking a stray piece of hair from his forehead as he jumped to the marble slab of a podium at the courtyard's most southern end. His dark curls, athleticism, and youth had made him a favourite with the Academy's female population, second after Valentine. Melissa, who had been held back from most of his classes of the previous year, hardly knew him at all.

"I apologize for the slow start we got off to last week, but it's protocol. Hey!" he rapped a battered practice blade on a nearby column when the students still didn't quiet. Melissa, who had been neglecting to give her attention in remembrance of the last week's classes like every other student, reluctantly swung her eyes to the front.

"To make up for it, I'll give the class as free dueling time and save the lesson for Wednesday. But please note the use of "dueling." I do _not _want to see anyone sitting around; I expect everyone in partners in three minutes, and both Mr. Morgenstern and I will be circulating. This is your last year! I do not want to see any techniques worthy of my grandfather – and he's good, mind you."

This lightened the classes' mood considerably. The sun had finally emerged from behind its mask of cloud after a week and every tenth year was retrieving blades from the box and chatting with their partners in record time.

"You're not going to tell me?" Aribelle continued to press as she caught the blade Melissa tossed her. It was the only gesture the older student could think of to apologize for her previous manner.

"Later," she murmured, but both knew full well that she didn't plan on it. "Oh, look – here comes the man himself, first day on the most strenuous job of hounding our asses."

Valentine was approaching them with all his usual grace. The simpering voice of Jenny (or was it Sarah? Melissa had never cared enough to remember) stopped him for a second, asking him his much-revered opinion on some battle move. He answered her with the utmost courtesy and it was left to Melissa to roll her eyes when he stood in front of her.

"Don't tell me – she wanted to know which end of the seraph blade is the handle."

"Be nice!" he scolded, though both girls were sure it was more for the defense of his ego. "At least she shows more motivation than what I see here."

"Motivation, yes," Melissa allowed as she raised her blade and batted it against her partner's after a look from the teacher, "But not of the _fighting _variety, I'm sure."

Valentine smirked, absentmindedly ruffling his cap of blond hair. It hadn't been cut since the start of the summer, and a few longer strands constantly fell in his eyes – if Melissa had been writing a song, she would've described it as devilish. "Jealous, Ryder? And you'll never get a hit on Ari if you don't hold your tip up."

"_Hold your tip up," _she parroted, and then turned crimson as Aribelle started laughing at the phrase's other connotation. Melissa still managed to spot her opening and whacked her friend's shoulder with her blade rather harder than necessary while her giggles subsided.

"Ha! That's what you get for being perverse."

"How did I find my way into a first year class?" Valentine mused from the side with a smile as Aribelle paid her _parabatai _back with vengeance.

Aribelle defeated Melissa from nothing more than experience but the newer student prided herself on how close the mock duel was. Valentine had circulated the class at least three times and was about to organize a three-way battle between himself, Jocelyn, and Aribelle with Melissa as scorekeeper until a shout from Mr. Ravenscar caused him to hurry over in faint surprise. The two girls invited Melissa to take his place, but she declined when the reason for Valentine's departure was comprehended. A semi-familiar face was making his way from the Academy's main entrance – one that, she now realized in shock, hadn't been seen since the end of last school year.

Adrian Aldertree was as short as he had been before, only reaching the teacher's shoulder from where he stood beside him. But if he had been a soft, round puppy last year, he had now grown into a hound. Muscles nowhere near as impressive as Valentine's yet still shocking spiraled up his forearms and disappeared under the Academy dress shirt sleeves he wore rolled up. And the look of hatred he directed at the person on Ravenscar's other side would've looked extremely out of place on his face last year yet looked perfectly at home right now.

Valentine looked oblivious while receiving instructions from the teacher. Melissa caught that he was to relay last week's safety information to Adrian, who had been away last week for some reason or another. She also caught the look of displeasure that flitted across her boyfriend's face before he turned to the shorter boy with a smile.

"You're looking a little suspicious right about now," Aribelle hissed at Melissa's side. Reluctantly, since a third of the class was still noticeably eavesdropping, she moved back to where Jocelyn was waiting and the three of them positioned themselves as close to Valentine and Adrian as possible. The skill and difficulty of their fighting was sacrificed for the desire to hear what was going on behind them.

"You always make certain your partner is engaged before you duel," he was relating, somehow managing to make a dull set of rules sound musical on his tongue, "And you can only use weapons that are teacher-approved. But I'm sure you know all of this already."

Melissa's mind could create Adrian's cold expression as he replied, "Of course, I do, but it seemed like last year, others didn't."

Aribelle and Jocelyn's attacks and confused looks were the only thing that kept her from turning around with a gasp of surprise. _By the Angel, I could've sworn that no one picked up on that._

"I am sure that others broke that rule in previous years, yes, but it is not advisable." The temperature of his voice had dropped immensely. Jocelyn lunged and Melissa's blade met her friend's with a clang, yet it was not deafening enough to drown out Adrian's furious reply.

"I am _sick _of you thinking you're above the fucking rules, Morgenstern!"

If that tested her willpower, the shattering sound of steel on steel broke it. She turned almost simultaneously with her two partners and a few other students nearby and took in the scene behind her with shock. It was obvious that Adrian had commenced the attack, for his blade was stretched over the space between the two male students and pressing with considerable force on Valentine's own weapon. Valentine had barely made the parry in time. His face looked calm enough, albeit slightly disbelieving, but after six months of knowing him Melissa could read the rising storm in the way his right hand clenched the air and the tendons corded harshly at the base of his neck. If Adrian wasn't careful, he'd be publicly humiliated – or worse.

Valentine slid the opposing blade off his own in a sheer display of strength and stepped back, though it was clear that keeping himself away from Adrian was costing even more effort. "If you keep your body's best interests at heart, _stop now," _he hissed, every word a shard of ice aimed directly at the boy in front of him. Almost a foot taller, it looked like an adult facing off with a child.

"Funny, I think I'm the only one in the class that won't take your orders." His words were proven when he launched himself at Valentine again.

No clash of metal split the air, for the taller boy had side-stepped him completely. Yet, Adrian danced to his other side with lightening speed and lunged again. Nearly caught off balance, Valentine was forced to jump a foot back to avoid parrying, and the slight wobble before he steadied himself was not missed by most.

"He's holding his own," Aribelle breathed in amazement, referring to Adrian. She cast a quick glance around for the teacher, who she assumed had thought this a mock duel and had paid no attention.

There was an internal battle taking place inside Valentine that was much greater than the physical threat of the approaching Adrian. Melissa could understand it as clearly as if it was happening to her – if he fought back, there was the risk of injury and a sullied reputation with the staff. But if he didn't, she realized with a small smirk, there were things of even greater importance to him at stake. She knew his choice a second before his arms went rigid and he decided himself.

Valentine sprung into motion with a gasp from the class and, within a second, was on Adrian's opposite side, raining blows down on him so fast that he couldn't hope to block them all. Melissa felt amusement bubble up inside her when she witnessed Adrian's face transform from triumphant to terrified. He raised his blade for a feeble thrust that Valentine easily parried, caught, and finally flicked Adrian's weapon away with a neat twist of his wrist. He then pulled the shorter boy into a grotesque death hug and flipped him around with ease, so that both students were facing the crowd and Valentine's blade pressed against Adrian's tanned throat.

Valentine's eyes smoldered with a black fire that made Melissa wince herself, unable to stop thinking about the times that look had been directed at her. A small part of her buried somewhere deep down knew that she had to do something, to stop him before this got even uglier, but it was impossible to lift her feet from the concrete ground. She ripped her eyes away from the bruises blossoming on Adrian's throat like roses to glance from Aribelle to Jocelyn, willing them with her eyes to do something that she couldn't – yet they were both looking with dismay at the figure elbowing their way through the crowd.

"Mr. Morgenstern, let go of him _at once!" _Ravenscar bellowed. The disbelief in his voice and on his face outnumbered the anger two to one, like he was witnessing a long-extinct dinosaur trampling his house. No matter how real and dangerous it looked, it just wasn't comprehendable.

Her conscience raised its voice again as Adrian started thrashing in pain and Valentine made no move to release him. A masculine voice called from near her that she could barely identify as Luke, yet her thoughts drowned out the words. _He's actually hurting – Valentine doesn't do this – by the Angel, he's killing him _–

"_Valentine," _the teacher breathed half-incredulous, half-pleading.

Melissa tore her eyes from his blade to his face, searching his black pits for any emotion other than fury, desperately striving to catch his gaze. And finally, it worked – his attention slid to her with a detached sort of curiosity, as if he had never seen her in his life. She felt her mouth form the plea of its own volition.

_Please._

His eyes widened and he saw her, _really _saw her, and let the blade clatter to the concrete at once. He stood two feet away from Adrian in the next moment, as if trying to put as much distance between his loss of control and himself as possible.

Mr. Ravenscar let out the long, noisy breath that the whole class had been holding. "I – I can't even say I know what that was," he confessed, shaking his head slightly and stepping towards the two boys. But Melissa noticed the way he kept closer to Adrian's side of the semi-circle that had formed. It was almost as if he was _scared _of Valentine.

"I don't either," Valentine said, slowly, as if he didn't trust himself to speak. "I do know, however, that it will never happen again."

And then old Valentine was back, and he bent neatly to retrieve his fallen weapon, bowed his head infinitesimally and stepped back amongst his classmates. There was no glance spared for Adrian, who was gingerly touching the splotchy blemish on his neck as if assuring himself it was even real.

The teacher's posture took on an almost guilty appearance. "It most certainly will not. When I said I didn't know, I meant it – you're at the top of the class, Valentine, and you've only stepped out of line in the past to redefine the line itself. As it is, you'll be suspended from your TA duties for the next fortnight, and I want you in the Headmaster's office at the start of break. I'm taking Mr. Aldertree here to the infirmary – I expect you all to contain your dueling urges until I return."

As Mr. Ravenscar left with Adrian, and Aribelle turned to her with an expression of confusion mirrored by every other student, Melissa couldn't help the strange surge of pride that bubbled up in her chest. He had been provoked and blinded by his rage, and yet she had stopped him, stopped _Valentine Morgenstern _with a single word. The intoxicating feeling of power that she had experienced the night of the first Circle meeting surfaced once more.

She replied to her friend's exclamation of disbelief with a nod and pushed through the crowd to find him herself, to admonish his stupidity but soften the blow with a kiss, in front of the class yet again. To laugh and say it will be a great story to tell his grandchildren. Yet, when she arrived at the edge of the crowd, he was still nowhere to be seen.

It was only when she cast her eyes up to the Academy's front doors that she saw his tall figure disappearing inside with a head of fiery red hair a few inches shorter than him, heads close together, obviously deep in conversation. The way her stomach churned sickly was entirely foreign to Melissa, but as she turned back to her fellow tenth years, she was almost positive she knew what it meant.

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><p>Melissa shouldered the door of her Mundane Studies classroom open, stepping toward the wood paneled wall of the hallway to avoid the river of eighth years that threatened to flow right over her. She clutched her textbook absentmindedly; sure that she had heard even less of the lesson than usual. Every time she closed her eyes, the entire scene from the morning played out on the backs of her eyelids like one of the film reels they were currently learning about.<p>

A pang of hunger was the only thing that caused her to take a step out into the busy hallway and almost run over a bouncing blonde head.

"We're doing Italy and it's most famous inhabitants in my History class," her words tumbled over each other in a familiar way as she shifted her textbook from one hand to another, "And we just chanced into the modern times. You'll never guess who's there at the moment. If anyone can help you, he can – we _have _to get on that trip."

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><p><strong>Reviews help me get through fourth block, which usually kills me.<strong>


	7. Venezia

**God... how many languages can I say I'm sorry in? I'm really freaking sorry. It was true that I was on a hiatus to get my life in my new town in order, but that was only supposed to last a month. But all I can say it is definitely in order now! :) I have the most amazing group of friends, school is fine and I've been going out with the sweetest boy ever for close to four months now. I'm pretty happy with life. And hopefully I'll be pretty happy with the time I spend writing now too! A HUGE thank you and a cookie goes out to anyone who's stuck with this. You guys are why I write. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6: Venezia<strong>

The last two Friday classes couldn't go by fast enough for the Academy students, including Melissa. When she had learned the trip to Italy could change her future in ways not previously imagined, she had collected the necessary funds at once (much to Aribelle's indignation, since the blonde student had been led to think that was impossible) and secured the second-last available spot on the overnight visit. The week couldn't go by fast enough. Talk of ancient buildings separated by winding canals, pasta and dreamy Italian Shadowhunters drifted through the halls until everyone who wasn't going was equally anxious for the week to come to a close. Melissa had pestered her _parabatai _night and day for information on the mysterious source of help until she started to annoy even herself, yet Aribelle stayed silent and only hinted that they would find the unnamed person tonight, even when the two of them had done a five-minute packing job and were in the middle of carrying their packs down the ten flights of stairs.

"The Institute in Rome had _so _better have elevators or I'm sleeping on the street," Melissa promised as they reached the bottom with little breath left and started booking it to the front hall, the meeting spot. "Right after I hide your dead body, of course. Since you're being so bloody secretive. By the Angel, if this is all some plan you and Valentine concocted to get me out and we're really going to meet your half-witted uncle, twice removed…"

"Patience is a virtue that you don't have," Aribelle replied lightly and waved at Jocelyn and Leila, who were already gathered in a semi-circle like most of the other students going. Melissa had thankfully missed the preparation sessions at lunch all last week so she shouldered her way to the redhead's side to catch the supervisor's departing words. The Academy had been lucky enough to hire a warlock to create a Portal within the school's grounds (with the Clave's permission), and the half-open door and frame looked exceedingly silly standing freely among the old couches and Persian rugs. The swirling blue light that emitted from it illuminated a face that made Melissa's heart sink.

"You _cannot _be serious. Ms. Logan is _not _accompanying us on this marvelous, joyful trip of a lifetime."

"Sorry," Jocelyn whispered with a wince as Ms. Logan herself went on about the perils of being separated, still miraculously on the same breath. "Mr. Ravenscar cancelled last-minute. He's probably afraid of some fifth year girls sneaking into his room at night."

_Or something else, _Melissa thought darkly, mind leaping back to Monday morning. As if summoned telepathically, Valentine appeared on her other side, pack shouldered and resting on his crisp Academy button-down. His hand touched hers lightly, as if by mistake, yet the smile he flashed when she looked up was entirely on purpose. She was sure he had broken records for the most attentive boyfriend this past week, and tried her very hardest to push the image of him and Jocelyn from her thoughts.

Melissa heard her roommate's voice and looked past Valentine to see Aribelle trying to console an extremely put-out Oliver over by the front desk while the secretary eyed them both disapprovingly. She remembered her friend telling her yesterday that her boyfriend's parents had withdrawn their consent at the last minute. Thinking Aribelle would be distraught, Melissa was pleasantly surprised when she brightened at the thought of exploring a foreign country with nothing "holding her back," as she had said, and found herself wishing that Valentine would cop out.

Aribelle had been about to elaborate on her sudden happiness but the bell had rung for second period and chased them out of the fourth floor study room, a favourite hangout of theirs.

The tiny blonde presently planted a strained kiss on Oliver's lips and rejoined the group. Mouth set into a frown, he turned on his heel and started up the grand staircase without a parting glance at any of them. "Nice," Melissa commented, and Valentine looked like he was about to reply when the one hundred fifty strong group of teenagers started to line up in front of the Portal at some command that she hadn't heard. She stuck to Valentine's side and moved nearer the front of the line because of it, only waiting five or so minutes, taking a breath she couldn't help but hold in excitement as she stepped out of Alicante for the second time in her life.

Rays of sun instantly warmed her face and arms as she was slammed into another world. A soft breeze greeted her face, bringing the smells and sounds of people with it — and the strange scent of distinctly salty water. Melissa cast her eyes about for Aribelle, who had been directly in front of her in line, but her vision froze when she caught sight of the city laid out before her.

The other student's gasps of delight around her barely summed up the image's brilliance. A huge canal, littered with boats of all sizes skimming the water like bugs; wound through the city like a snake. Buildings of all sizes and colours lined both sides, appearing to rise straight out of the water with no ground in sight. Hoards of ant-like people crawled over the gilded, ancient bridges that spanned the water in gradually widening intervals as her eyes continued down the canal. Melissa herself stood with the growing group of Academy students off to the side at the base of one of the bridges that rose so high that she couldn't see over its crest. A steady stream of mundanes rushed by her, eyes deflected by the glamour she had been careful to apply as instructed before arriving, and entirely too focused on clicking their electronic boxes to care. The name of the objects had long since disappeared from her knowledge, along with most of the things mentioned in Mundane Studies.

Aribelle suddenly appeared at her side, beaming. "Isn't it gorgeous? All the pasta is to die for here, you have to get some."

"Exactly how many times have you been here?" She inhaled another breath of the salty air and decided she liked it.

"Three and counting." Aribelle smirked at the look her friend threw her. "Hey, my parents like travelling. Don't judge. And I can finally use this!" She pulled one of the boxy mundane objects roughly double the size of her hand from her bag with a flourish. The sun caught its black lacquered finish brilliantly as she clicked a button at its top with almost painful enthusiasm.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Melissa quipped before she was blinded by a light more powerful than the sun. She lowered the hand that had instinctively risen and cracked an eyelid open. "Goddamnit, what in the Angel's name was that?"

"A camera. Say that again around the Mundie Studies teacher, why don't you?" Valentine answered from where he lounged a few steps from the ground on the bridge's railing. He was absorbing his surroundings with the usual vague interest, so Melissa couldn't tell if he'd been here before.

Aribelle clapped her hands with sudden glee. "Ooh Mel, could you step up to stand just in front of Valentine?" When she saw that Melissa was having nothing to do with her plan, she motioned Valentine to move behind Melissa. He complied with a smirk, and slung his arm around her just as they were blinded by the flash.

"I admit to forgetting what that thing does, but I have a feeling it's going to be tossed in the canal before this weekend's over," Melissa promised with dark certainty after she had jumped a good foot away from her boyfriend. Aribelle clutched her camera protectively and moved to catch up with Jocelyn and Luke as Ms. Logan did a final head count and motioned them to move single file over the bridge. With a last muttered — albeit good-natured — curse, Melissa followed.

The group tried to move as a whole and accomplished their task fairly well. Their glamours hid not only their runes but their whole bodies from mundane sight, disguising the accidental brush of an arm as the perfectly explainable touch of a falling leaf or something similar. Melissa was getting used to the wonderful feeling of having eyes slide right over you when Aribelle touched her wrist and gestured to a young man standing near the entrance to an ancient apartment building's courtyard. He was clothed in jeans and a long sleeve tee and would've looked perfectly normal if he hadn't been staring directly at them.

When Melissa looked back, Aribelle was glancing at the rest of the students. They had continued a few more paces into the seclusion of a side street and Ms. Logan seemed to be giving instructions to remove their glamours, and draw new ones that only hid runes. A few of the older students were drawing younger students as well.

"Cover for us, Joce, will you?" the blonde whispered to Jocelyn and took off in the direction of the man, grabbing Melissa's wrist in the process. Melissa bit back a laugh of amazement as she saw her _parabatai _shrug off her thin sweater and tug the neckline of her lace camisole down an inch. "Wait a minute, are you going for the hooker or porn star look? Schoolgirl is a new fetish, I've hea —" She was shushed by an irritated Aribelle just before they got into hearing range.

"Hey there," Aribelle said in a forced sultry voice that was entirely too low for her. "What's up?"

The man didn't seem to mind. "Just looking at the two prettiest things I've seen all day. Wanna step inside for a drink, little Shadowhunters? I didn't know you came so fine."

They both had to hide their looks of surprise as his stronger glamour melted away like ice, leaving his skin a violent shade of blue. Aribelle was barely able to speak without stammering. "No, its fine, we're just looking for a certain Magnus Bane —"

Melissa saw that she was needed and slipped into the role she had been donning for three years. It came almost effortlessly now.

"We'll go anywhere you want us once you tell us where he is," she interrupted smoothly, lightly, as if it didn't really matter to her if they got the information or not while she _knew _he wanted them. Aribelle's face slipped into momentary shock and the warlock laughed.

"Looks like your friend here is the real feisty one, hun," he chuckled. "Sure. He's staying at my friend's place, a little hotel off the canal, above the Cat's Eye — a bit funny, since — oh, you wouldn't understand. But I'd like to see you chickies get in there, 'cause it's a Downworlder bar."

An idea of pure genius and utter stupidity graced Melissa's thoughts. "Oh, I think we're a little busy _now…_but if you met us there at ten, and got us in alright, I'm sure we could do you a little favour in return." She smiled and was disgusted at the way his pale eyes lit up at the thought.

"Sure. See you there, and a little tip: dress up a little more. But less is more, if you know what I mean." And he melted deeper into the shadows at the side of the street.

"It looks like we're going clubbing," Melissa stated with a small grin as they hurried back to join the group, Aribelle viciously pulling on her sweater as they ran. "This Magnus dude had _so _better be worth anything that creep has to throw at us." She wondered why the name rang bells of familiarity in her head.

Aribelle returned her grin somewhat nervously. "If he lives up to his reputation, he definitely will be."

After their supervisor had triple-checked that they were all accounted for, an informal tour of Venice began. "It seems that she didn't get the "free time" memo," Melissa complained to Jocelyn, who walked beside her along the Grand Canal near the front of the group. They had both sped up with the sole intention of leaving Aribelle and her endless remarks of "Oh, I remember that cathedral!" and "That mango-chocolate-pistachio-strawberry gelato is the _best!"_ behind. Even Valentine had chosen Luke as a better walking companion, and was deep in discussion with the brown-haired teen while a poor Circle wanna-be took his place.

"Did you really expect her to?" With a rueful glance back at their blonde friend, Jocelyn continued with "Have you ever been out of Idris before?"

"More hardly even been out of Alicante," Melissa answered with a laugh, deciding at once to keep her parents out of this. With sunshine and foreign city bustle swirling in an easy dance around her, she found herself in a surprisingly good mood, save for the knowledge that she was getting a flash thrown in her face every time she turned to look at Aribelle. "Except for those weeks at Valentine's place…"

"Oh, don't feel too bad, I'm in the same boat as you — been all around our country, but have never actually _left _it once. And I never got a chance to ask about that!" A sly grin. "How'd that go? His mom's pretty imposing, isn't she?"

Melissa felt strange with knowledge that Jocelyn had met his mother, more than once by the sound of it. "She was sort of MIA the entire time I was there. It was nice, I guess. But I'm sure any girl would describe two weeks with their boyfriend as 'nice.'" While Melissa could admit she'd secretly enjoyed giving in Aribelle's incessant pestering regarding her stay at Valentine's and had felt more important and wanted with every piece of information that lit a grin on her friend's face, her gut clenched weirdly at the thought of telling Jocelyn the same details.

"Oh, yeah. You don't see me staying with my non-existent boyfriend for a week or two." Melissa hated herself for listening closely for any tone of jealousy and the feeling deepened when she found none. More than that, it sounded as if her friend was a happy, content single.

"It's not as great as it's cracked up to be, I assure you," she said seriously. "It's like being married, and no one in their right mind wants that."

Jocelyn's laugh of general amusement followed her as beautifully painted mask featured in one of the many street vendors' stalls caught her eyes. She moved closer for a better look, not hearing Aribelle's sudden shout of warning. The vendor, a vulture in a gaily striped white-and-red shirt, chose the next moment to strike.

"Maybe you should listen to a few of my stories," Aribelle said as they escaped with only the mask wrapped in a paper bag instead of half the stall's inventory — for a very special deal he made only for friends, of course.

"Just a few," Melissa agreed breathlessly.

Ms. Logan led the group up the side of a smaller canal and into a square lacking the hustle of the ones closer to the center of the city. Apartment windows peered down upon them from their respective stone balconies, set into faded, peeling walls adorned with creepers and small flower pots. The close proximity of the buildings, all two to three stories high, cast the group of Nephilim students in early evening shadow. Only the eastern side of the square was illuminated in a rich gold, signaling the arrival of the sunset.

They had finally been given free time for the next two hours and Aribelle had immediately dragged a good part of the Circle over to a gelato shop she had spotted. Six teenagers piled into the tiny room and gazed in wonder at the twenty-five flavors of delicious looking not-quite-ice-cream behind the glass convex counter.

Valentine extracted a few Euros from the pocket of his slacks and gestured for Melissa, who had snagged the only window chair, to join him. "What do you want?"

"A double-scoop raspberry and dark chocolate cone!" she told the already harried-looking woman behind the counter. "But you aren't buying me gelato," she told the young blond man beside her firmly. "I am buying myself gelato," a few golden coins appeared in her palm like magic, "And then I'm buying _you _gelato."

Valentine grinned and placed his order while Melissa received high-fives from every female classmate around her. "Just this once," he promised and took his gelato outside, purposely holding the door for Melissa when she followed.

"Oh, no, you don't," she exclaimed with passion, stopping in her tracks and taking slow, amused licks of her cone until her boyfriend let the door close behind him with a exasperated sigh. Only then did she drag the heavy door open one-handed and step out into the last of the evening sunshine.

"Why must you always be so difficult?" Valentine asked with a sad little smile. He was leaning against the old red brick of the shop's outside wall; hair darkening to a deep, pure gold. The already-empty plastic cup he held cast the only shadow on his otherwise cream-white dress shirt, falling right over his heart.

"I don't know. But you love it." Melissa crossed the distance between them in three strides and stood on her toes to kiss him. She could feel everything: The rough texture of the brick on the hand that fell past his shoulder to rest against the wall. The cool drip of her gelato over the fingers of her other hand. The way his fingers flew up to cradle the base of her head and run themselves through her unbound curls. The crash of plastic colliding with concrete. The taste of cappuccino gelato that still lingered on his lips.

They had barely been joined for a minute when she felt his mouth grow hard against her own and his hands leave the nape of her neck. It scared her just how much she wanted to tear his hands from his sides and put them on herself again.

"Something's wrong," he whispered, his breath caressing her ear as he pushed his six-foot-two frame from the wall and gazed towards the center of the square. Melissa couldn't see anything, for she wasn't looking to see what was really there. A snag of movement in plain view caught her eye. The glamour was easy to peel away when she was looking for it, and there was Ms. Logan — with no good reason for being invisible in the first place — pacing anxiously, a piece of paper clutched in her right hand.

"Something more important than me?" Melissa replied teasingly, but fell into affronted silence when no answer came. He was across the square and standing in the shadows in a matter of minutes, letting the voice of a person invisible to the general public reach him in the most unobvious way possible. He nodded once and crossed back to her as an afterthought; mind clearly a long way away from where his feet were taking him.

"Both a high-security prisoner and a guard were found brutally murdered in the lobby of the Gard. And the accursed, incompetent Clave has no idea what the hell happened."

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><p><strong>I'd love reviews, if only to see who is still reading this xD and an author's note, everything I described in here is for real. I was vacationing in Venice among other places in Italy last summer and heavily referenced my photos while writing. <strong>


	8. The Cat's Eye

**Again, another huge sorry for the long wait and more than a plateful of cookies for still sticking with me! The story is progressing, albeit slowly, but with intention. More coming soon. Reviews are love!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seven: The Cat's Eye <strong>_  
><em>

_Rome, Italy: September 1984_

The single bed's ancient springs creaked in whiny protest as Aribelle sat down beside her. "I feel horrible," she voiced to the room in general, even though Melissa was the only other person occupying it. "Everyone's only thinking about one thing while we're sneaking back to Venice to go clubbing."

"Or, you know, sneaking back to Venice to cure my inability to go within ten feet of any demon. Depends on how you look at it."

Melissa rose, Aribelle's bed sighing in relief as she passed her own on the way to the dark wood vanity, the only other piece of furniture in the small, sparsely decorated room they shared. She snatched the tube of crimson lipstick that had made the table its home and applied it while glancing back at her _parabatai. _The last half hour's role reversal had made her grin with amusement throughout it. Melissa's experienced knowledge of club wear combined with her ability to mix black with black and resulted in an extremely uncomfortable-looking Aribelle sitting on her bed, clothed in a dark camisole and little else. Dark wash jean shorts peeked tentatively out from underneath its lacy hem as she eyed the strappy stilettos sitting on the ground before her with distaste.

"Well go on, they aren't going to bite," said Melissa.

"I had a rule, I wasn't going to try anything over three inches—" began Aribelle, and rolled her eyes as Melissa raised an eyebrow suggestively, "—in shoes, you idiot—and I think you're supposed to wear a camisole underneath that."

Melissa shrugged, causing her black bra to lift with the movement of her shoulders under the cover of an extremely transparent white V-neck. She pulled her overnight bag onto her bed and rummaged through it before yanking a patent leather pump from its depths and diving back in to search for its mate.

"You _brought _shoes? Instead of having to buy them from the overpriced late night street market?" said Aribelle.

"Well, Valentine was planning an event that your genius plan lets us not partake in tonight," said Melissa. Both girls pulled on their shoes while Aribelle eyed Melissa's even more suspiciously than her own.

"But what exactly were _you _planning for?" said Aribelle.

Melissa threw her a devilish, red-lipped smirk and fastened her stele to her belt before tugging a hoodie over her ensemble. "Absolutely nothing."

Her friend donned a jacket and followed her out of their room's oak paneled door, locking it securely behind them.

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><p>The club-bound pair of <em>parabatai <em>crept through the older students' dorm hallway as quietly as their heels would allow them to, thanking the Angel that the rooms lining the hall were occupied mainly by Circle members who were planning their own rebellious amusement in half an hour. Melissa had discovered a note slipped under their door when they had returned from dinner with a café on a Roman side street nearby and _10:00 _written underneath the address in Valentine's familiar script. They had prepared their getaway a neat half an hour earlier.

They instinctively pressed themselves against the cherub-gilded wallpaper as the populated main sitting room came into view. Melissa swore in a voice not accustomed to whispering.

She gave the room an once-over, the trained Shadowhunter in her seeing no possible escape routes. "What in Raziel's name are we supposed to do now?" she heaved a sigh and let her head thump loudly against the wall.

Aribelle grabbed her swinging hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Melissa glanced backwards, momentarily shocked speechless at the depth of the empathy swimming in her friend's chocolate brown eyes. Although her mind was near full capacity with the problem at hand, she still managed the detached thought that not one person had ever looked at her like that in her life.

Her _parabatai _swung her eyes from Melissa's to the darkness around them and smiled as she gestured towards the deserted main hallway that ran adjacent to the parlor. "This way. Quietly!" It seemed as though Melissa had to be told and rolled her eyes at the comment.

Not wanting to risk witchlight, they crept through the hall while dim candlelight played with their shadows on the wall behind them. They had just crossed the estimated halfway mark when the floorboards' protesting creak alerted them to another person's presence. Melissa met Aribelle's gaze helplessly before the shadowed face of Ms. Logan was hovering above them.

Yet she hardly spared them a sideways glance as she quickly flew down the hall, flyaway strands of hair making a bid of freedom from the confinement of her tight bun.

"I want you both in your rooms by curfew," she murmured distractedly, not even recognizing the taller girl as one of her archenemies regarding rule-following. Words like _Nephilim guard, high security vampiric prisoner _and _gruesome murder _leapt out at them from the front page of Alicante's current newspaper and the letter that sat on top of it that she didn't even attempt to hide.

They didn't dare try their luck with speaking until they arrived in front of the unassuming door set cleverly into the wall that separated the foyer from the parlor's front wall. Melissa had admired the smart way it could contain unwanted visitors and had marked it as a possible building plan if she ever had the want and funds to install a Portal into any future houses of her own.

"Venice?" she whispered as casually as possible, trying in vain to dispel her lingering dislike of Portal travel by checking the glamour her _parabatai_ had drawn on her forearm for the fifteenth time.

Aribelle gave her a shaky smile, her fear not a product of the Portal but what lay beyond it. "Let's try for somewhere more specific, like the Grand Canal."

The five second journey through the Portal seemed equivalent to five hours. Melissa felt the falling sensation disappear and barely caught herself before losing balance, wobbling slightly on her towering heels before casting her gaze past Aribelle's form and around the side street, illuminated only by a dim streetlamp and her Nephilim eyesight. The canal itself was a gurgle of slow-moving water to her right.

"Glad that you figured out to think _beside _the canal, not the canal," her companion pronounced in relief.

"Who knows, that warlock might like a wet woman," said Melissa.

Aribelle threw her the usual glance before getting her bearings and starting in the direction of the club.

The boarded up coffee shop glamour was especially hard to peel away. It had a different flavour to it than any other glamour Melissa had come into contact with. As the façade melted and the modern, strobe-lit building underneath materialized, the people around it did as well. Aribelle's hand brushed Melissa's at the sight of wings and horns and she touched it lightly before approaching the front door.

"Nephilim," the winged Downworlder all but spat as they stepped out of the shadows and approached the opening. Melissa contained both her blossoming fear and instinctive remark of _You don't say? _and forced herself into her most submissive persona possible. Aribelle didn't need to be reminded to don hers.

"We're just meeting someone inside," Melissa replied, fidgeting with a stray curl. "A warlock. Friend of…Magnus's."

"Magnus Bane's new playthings? I can see it now, even though I never would've thought he'd have the balls to go after Shadowhunters. Maybe he'd give me a go afterwards?"

It took all of Melissa's thin willpower to walk past without spitting, "When winged warlock pigs fly."

The music, a crashing din when heard outside, hit them like a brick wall when they stepped inside the smoky main bar and dance floor, lit by flashing lights in all colours of the rainbow that gave their sensitive eyes and hearing an instant headache. The lights themselves cast a kaleidoscope of colour on the many bodies, gyrating to the music like the air they were swimming in was water. Melissa couldn't tell where one blue-skinned body began and the red-skinned one beside it ended, or which body a wing belonged to. It was a most disquieting, almost revolting sight to a Nephilim raised to feel the utmost disgust for the races, but the Nephilim in question felt herself drawn to it, like a ghastly wound you couldn't take your eyes off of.

"Magnus Bane, and pronto," her _parabatai's _voice hit her ear harshly, fighting with the din around them. "FYI, you look incredibly suspicious right now."

"And you don't?" She kept her position by the right of the entrance, her eyes sweeping the club for a door leading upstairs while Aribelle stood behind her.

The only black shape in the room of dancing colours started drifting steadily towards them. Melissa turned, half from alarm and half from the brush of a cold object along her exposed forearm, and saw what Aribelle was doing. Her stele was half-hidden behind her back and her skin was steadily turning a moss green.

"Not for long. Now go!"

Melissa wound through the crowd in what she prayed was an unassuming fashion, consoling herself that her marks were invisible and only bumping one reptilian wing in the process. Breathing a sigh of relief, she found her destination—an old peeling door slightly open, with light illuminating it from higher ground—and slid past it with another, louder exhale of breath. Melissa flipped a stray curl over her shoulder and adjusted her bra, ready to use any asset necessary to gain this crucial piece of information, before venturing upstairs.

_F__ü__r Elise _was drifting out of the only open door on the landing and a strange voice that couldn't be identified by gender was humming along to it, hitting every high note perfectly. Melissa shouldered her way through the door, hand on the hilt of her concealed seraph blade, and was met by more glitter than she had ever seen in her life.

A slender figure sat atop a mahogany desk in a room devoid of any other furniture, one leg folded over the other and looking as though he had expected her ten minutes ago. Candlelight sparkled off of his suit jacket, covered entirely with glitter, and drew her focus to the sharp lines drawn above his eyes in black glittering eyeliner. Melissa's blood chilled when she took in the amber irises and slit cat's pupils.

He jumped off the desk with feline grace that matched his eyes. "Magnus Bane, warlock in residence in the Floating City," he said, extending a hand with a flourish while giving her a once-over. Every nail was painted a shiny black. "I wasn't aware that Nephilim were now killing demons by seducing them."

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest protectively, already questioning the success of her plan and his sexuality. "And I wasn't aware that warlocks were bigger glitter consumers than teenage girls."

"I'll have you know that this jacket was custom commissioned from Louis Vuitton."

He sighed in dismay when he received a blank look from Melissa. "One straight from Alicante, I assume," Magnus murmured while leaning back on the desk, fitted matte slacks creeping up to show off patent leather dress shoes. "What do you want, little Shadowhunter? It must be important, to stoop so low as to associate yourself with us." His face was neutral, with no hint of bitterness or anger.

It had been difficult enough confiding her secret in her best friend, and she found it even harder to force the words out of her mouth to the flashy warlock. But Melissa had always been one to get what needs to be done finished, at all possible costs. "A demon bestowed a…gift on me, about four years ago. I unwittingly saved it from imprisonment and it either had to become my servant or give me something in return. Since I didn't really desire a demon butler, I chose immortality." She decided not to comment on the small shake of his head given to her by Bane.

"But ever since then, I've had these unbearably shitty headaches every time I've encountered a demon. Which didn't happen a lot until I enrolled at the Academy. And because of that, I've been rather useless whenever we've been in a sticky situation." Knowing the Circle had a growing reputation with the Downworlding community, she decided not to mention those sticky situations took place frequently.

Magnus strode over to her, heels clicking. "It seems to me, dear, that you have something of a blessing going on for you. To be able to sense the presence of a demon, even when they're not showing themselves to you? Many more experienced Shadowhunters would die for that ability." His feline eyes stared into her own, looking deeply intrigued. It was the interest bestowed to an issue that could have fatal consequences to a stranger, someone you did not particularly care about one way or the other.

"Then maybe those experienced Shadowhunters have more experience dealing with splitting headaches. I, for one, know that I can't deal with it, and I expect to live past twenty-six." The mention of her age did not elicit shock from the warlock, who was used to seeing the old appear young.

He shrugged with a shake of his head, eye shadow glittering. "Your choice. And I do know a way to help, just a simple talisman that you will need to keep on you at all times. I'll even do it for free, since it's simple magic and I really don't like to see beauty wasted, not even Nephilim beauty. But no infused necklaces here; they really are easy to take off, lose, impractical and _so _bad-fantasy-novel." Magnus Bane selected a shiny object out of a dish on the desk. "Nose or ear?"

Melissa grinned slightly, following his train of thought. "Ear."

He held the silver ball earring in his hand for a moment, letting a neon blue glow seep though his closed fingers for a minute before unscrewing one of the balls to reveal a sharp point. "No pain-nulling runes allowed."

Melissa rolled her eyes and stretched the top of her right ear out with two fingers. A sharp, searing pain flashed through her ear and then she could see the reflection of the metal bar piercing through both sides of her ear in the dark window. It passed through one side of the upper curve of cartilage and through the adjacent other. She thought she rather liked the look of it.

"Well, thanks," she addressed the warlock, not really knowing what else to say. He gave her one last long, searching look, as if he was trying to deduce something more, then picked up a stray pink crystal and started fidgeting with it.

"Anything to help a member of the Clave," he murmured with a small smile and shake of his head. "The door is right in front of you. No additional gifts of flowers or chocolate necessary. Although," he glanced up and gave her a glittery wink, "if you were of a different race and a bit more classily dressed, I would ask for your number. Now run along, little Shadowhunter."

Melissa raised an eyebrow, decided to hold her tongue, and left. When she descended the stairs, she caught a glimpse of a blonde head and black-clothed body intertwined with another, taller one before a bang was heard and everything turned to chaos.


End file.
